


Five Times Tony and Peter Chaotically Cleaned

by IronMum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Banter, Cleaning, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Domestic Avengers, Electrocution, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vision is a Good Bro (Marvel), spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMum/pseuds/IronMum
Summary: ... and the one time it goes perfectly.
Relationships: Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Scott Lang & Peter Parker, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Comments: 102
Kudos: 241





	1. Welcome to the Car Wash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kevy_Grayce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kevy_Grayce/gifts).



> Welcome to the first chapter of this wild ride! All of these stories are just pure self-indulgent fun and I hope you have as much fun reading them as I had writing them ❤️💛  
> This first chapter is Irondad-centric and was an absolute blast :)  
> As always, thank you so much for stopping by!

When Peter’s web shooters had failed to shoot the first time, he’d pushed twice more just to ensure he wasn’t imagining his Parker luck striking for the second time that night. When the panic began to sink in a little, his fingers pushed more rapidly before letting out a defeated sigh and attempting to wriggle them free from their position.

"Your web shooters seem to have malfunctioned, Peter." Karen spoke up, cool as a cucumber as always. "Judging by the consistency of this substance I would also suggest not trying to struggle out as it appears to be making you sink faster."

"Fuc-"

"LANGUAGE!" an audio recording of Captain America reverberated through his mask, instantly cutting him off. It was just another one of Tony’s protocols that only really served to annoy him. And annoy him, it did. This really hadn’t been his evening. Or day. Or week for that matter. 

"Any suggestions for me, Karen?" He enquired as he scanned as much of the room as he could see.

"The only option I can suggest is calling for assistance as attempts to escape yourself have worsened your situation. I am unable to determine the malfunction in your shooters so am unsure how long it’ll last." There was a pause for barely a second and then the dreaded words were said out loud. "Calling Tony Stark now."

"No, wait. You didn't even let me answer. Please don-"

"Mr Parker, how can I help? Or should I say Karen, how can I help Peter as you’ve had to request my assistance, because he's likely too stubborn to do so himself." Tony hypothesised, voice blasé as ever, the sound of tinkering tools audible in the background.

"Ehhhh. Hey, Mr Stark," Peter uttered through gritted teeth, mentally scolding Karen as he’d never be able to actually outright do it. "So I could use a little help."

"If Peter doesn't receive help in the next thirty minutes he will be in imminent danger of drowning in an unknown substance," his AI abruptly interjected.

"What Karen means to say is I fell and seem to be stuck in a sticky situation... literally. It’s really not that bad." Peter quickly defended after clearing his throat loudly. Unfortunately for him and to his dismay, she carried on.

"Peter fell from a height almost causing maximum velocity and crashed into a factory roof due to his web-shooters malfunctioning. Upon crashing through the roof he landed in some sort of vat and has been progressively sinking since. He has been stuck for approximately twenty-four minutes. The shooters are still inoperable and the mechanical legs of the suit were deployed but failed to assist." 

The teen could only grimace as his AI provided such specific details to his mentor. And on the other end of the line, he'd already heard the tools Tony had likely been using drop on the workshop desk. Then the Iron Man suit was powering up and inevitably, Peter would soon hear the whirring of the repulsors approaching his location.

"Thank you, Karen dear. You've been most helpful. I will see you both shortly."

When the call cut off, Peter raised his arms with clenched fists and let out the longest sigh he'd quite possibly ever done.

"Maybe we can work on a ' _don't spill the beans_ ' protocol for you Karen. Because I don't even know what that was but it kinda sucked and I thought you woulda been on my side considering I uploaded you into this squeaky clean, nanotech suit," Peter grovelled. "Talk about throwing me under the bus."

"Incorrect, Peter. You were thrown from the helicopter. And I was simply providing a report to Tony Stark as I am programmed to do. The protocol requires succinct details because, I quote, 'Peter's too headstrong and self-sacrificial to provide all the details I need to ensure his safety,’ end quote."

"The sass. Holy moly, Karen. Well, does that protocol have a name?" Peter queried, hoping the answer would be a no.

"No it does not Peter. It's integrated as part of the Baby Monitor, but does not have an individual name," she confirmed much to his pleasure.

"Okay great. Of course it is. Well, can you name it the Helicopter Parent Protocol? And when you provide a report to Mr Stark can you start by saying, `Helicopter Parent Protocol Activated’?" 

When she replied with a yes, all Peter could do was smirk in victory that he did have just a small bit of power. 

It had barely been five minutes when the sound of the thrusters on the Iron Man suit could be heard overhead and then Tony was hovering just above Peter.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he asked, tone full of amusement. "Incy, wincy, spider get caught in the water spout?"

"Mr Stark…" Peter whined, wishing he’d just be sucked into the vat already.

"Alright, alright," Tony conceded with a grin and extended a hand out to Peter. There was a groan of metal on the forearm of the armour as Peter accidentally crushed it in a vice grip, desperately wanting to escape the messy nightmare. 

"We’ll talk about that later, vandal," Tony mused. "Alright, F.R.I.D.A.Y., up and at’em."

In one rapid motion, Tony had freed Peter and the pair had shot upwards before landing on the roof of the factory. 

Peter kicked his aching legs out, the muscles burning with tension after being stuck in the same position for so long. The thick, dark goop that covered him looked like it would need at least one industrial wash. 

"This stuff is gross and it should feel bad for existing," he declared, scrunching up his nose.

"Oh yeah? I’m sure that would go down well with the manufacturers," Tony said, voice riddled with satire. "Now let’s get you back before a member of the public sees you and you go from Spider-Man to Treacle-Man or something. Then you can perhaps tell me how you ended up down there."

Peter simply rolled his eyes as he approached his mentor, scuffing his feet across the metallic roof. 

"Maybe this suit should come with self cleaning," he muttered sarcastically.

"Maybe it has a neural-reactive interface which means that if you think you can work out a way for the suit to self-clean itself you should consider it and allow the nanites to work off of that mental input," his mentor reprimanded.

There was a pause and then Tony watched as what could only be described as miniature windscreen wipers began to form from nanites. There were some across the arms, legs and torso, working hard to shift the substance that was well and truly caked on.

"I give you a multimillion dollar suit and your own personal AI and you turn it into an over-glorified car wash?!" Tony looked aghast, mouth ajar and eyes wide with horror. Peter was sure his eyebrows were going to get lost in his hairline if they went any higher. "The absolute audacity."

"I mean. I didn't see you come up with a better idea. And anyway, I think they look cool as-"

"Alright, alright," Tony interrupted, waving his hand in surrender. "It’s hard to even look at you whilst all that is going on."

Peter ignored the comment, choosing to admire his handiwork instead. He squinted in concentration, tongue ever so slightly sticking out as he did so. And with a little thought behind it, the wipers increased their speed, gliding back and forth much harder. He had quite possibly the cheesiest smile going when he realised he was being stared at by his mentor and his cheeks flushed. 

"Erm. So how do you propose we get outta here?" Peter questioned, "My web-shooters are kinda busted."

"Well I guess I could carry you... or you could hop on the back Baymax-Hiro style." Tony suggested immediately peeking the teens curiosity.

"You like Big Hero Six?" Peter queried, a single brow quirked.

"Clearly more down with the kids than you think, Spiderling." Tony tilted his head up as if he were royalty, a smug grin on his face at the statement.

"Ned is going to go nuts when I tell him I surfed on Iron Man’s back," Peter remarked out loud, quickly deflating his mentor's ego.

"Excuse you. You won’t be telling anyone about this. In fact, I might just take that option away." Tony retracted jokingly and took a couple of steps forward with his arms held out.. 

"Er, exsqueeze me. No take backs. I’m cool with the Hiro-Baymax thing." Peter quickly responded, arms up defensively at the idea of being carried. 

With the mini wipers instantly disappearing, Peter placed both his arms onto Tony’s shoulders, being extra careful not to dent anymore of the suit. As Tony ascended into the air, Peter got into his best crawling position so both legs rested on the armour’s back before it shot through the air and towards the tower. When he thought Tony wasn’t paying too much attention he slowly pried his hands from their grip and ever so carefully lifted them into the air, an intense burst of adrenaline rushing through his veins. It took every ounce of willpower to not allow a burst of laughter or shriek at the thrill of it out.

"I swear to God, Peter Parker, if F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells me your heart rate has just spiked because you are doing some dumb shit like literally surfing on me or acting like your on a rollercoaster I will ground you until you’re at least thirty." Tony warned, not daring to look over his shoulder. 

"I’d never do such a thing Mr Stark," Peter lied, unable to hide the breathlessness in his voice as he lifted his arms up above his head, continuing to do the one thing Tony had asked him not to do.

They arrived back at the tower in record time, Peter now in a piggy backed position on Tony as the millionaire dared not have the kid ruin any of his carpets, especially Pepper’s favourite rug. Not that he would admit it, but Peter found the position comforting, his aching legs enjoying the support. When they’d made it down to the lab Peter had reluctantly hopped off whilst Tony made his way to a corner of the room, grumbling at the sight of the dirty footprints and smears from Peter’s legs that had now stained the red of his armour.

"I hope you haven’t made a mess over there," He called out, barely turning his head in Peter’s direction as he eyed up the UI in front of him.

"You literally just pulled me out of a vat of… something and brought me into your lab..." He said, his tone incredulous as his mask retracted to his neckline. "Anyway. It’s already… And has always been pretty messy, Mr Stark," he retorted mischievously. 

"Deleted. Blocked. And banned too for that matter. " Tony fired back as he mimicked holding a phone and pushed his fingers at the air as if typing on buttons. "You get that Fri? You better revoke all of Peter’s privileges right this instant."

"Would you also like me to destroy the files in the ‘Peter’s First Album’ boss?" the AI chimed back and Tony found himself spluttering on a cough. There was an element of vulnerability about anyone else knowing about the protocol, including Peter. It was something he had implemented to save some of his favourite moments of the pair’s time together. It also included some of the kid’s rambles to himself as he swung through the city. He could feel Peter’s big, curious eyes on him and he desperately tried to avoid the gaze.

"You did that on purpose Fri," he chastised dryly, pointing up at the ceiling. 

"I would never do such a thing," she responded with just a hint of amusement that Peter hadn’t heard before. 

There was no doubt that the air in the room had suddenly got a whole lot thicker and awkward with a weird tension neither could put the finger on. It wasn’t a bad thing for Tony to savour memories, it was just not a conversation ever broached.

"It’s okay, Mr Stark. I have a protocol for you too," Peter decided to disclose much, to Tony’s surprise. There was a look of disbelief across his face as he stared at his mentee as if waiting for the punchline. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? When would I ever lie to you, Mr Stark?"

"Oh, I dunno. You want me to start alphabetically or chronologically? How about, _oh hey Mr Stark, yeah I’m at band practice at the moment_ ," Tony’s voice was up an octave as he swayed his head back and forth for the impression.

Peter gasped at the imitation before swiping a pair of nearby glasses and cleared his throat, back rod straight and arms bent at the elbows, " _yeah Rhodey I’m just driving with the top down…. Actually I’m just going for a jog._ "

"Rhodey is a damned traitor." Tony muttered, desperately trying to keep a straight face. Peter knew some of the anecdotes the Colonel had told him would come in useful and this had just been the perfect moment. "Alright, take those glasses off before the self destruct initiates for an incorrect user ID and that shit eating grin you're trying to suppress gets wiped off the face of the planet."

"What the!" Peter yelped, as he removed them quicker than the words escaped his throat and shoved them back towards the work station his mentor was at. Tony snorted at the reaction, lips ever so slightly curling at the edges in victory. There was a moment’s silence as the pair could sense the other stewing over a response. Eventually Tony exhaled loudly.

"Look. Utilise me when you need to. I know being a stubbornly brave, strong willed teenager means you aren’t a fan of asking for help." He trailed off pulling an exasperated face. Peter immediately frowned back playfully. 

"What’s that supposed to mean? I do ask for help when it’s needed." Peter affirmed, pouting childishly. 

"Oh I dunno, you didn’t seem to give me a buzz when you scaled the Washington Monument after accidentally endangering your friends with an alien bomb that was about to explode…Which, dare I say, you shouldn’t have kept anyway," Tony quipped back, raising a single brow.

"We were on a field trip. You wouldn’t have made it in time," Peter was quick to try and defend before he was interrupted. 

"Definitely no phone call when you tried to fight Big Bird gone bad, only to be slam-dunked into a lake where you proceeded to almost drown."

"I mean the falling was pretty quick. I didn’t really get much time to say anything but…. ahhhhh..." 

"And I don’t recall you asking for help when you decided to create your very own interactive Titanic sinking experience, guests included."

"That… That’s a low blow," Peter huffed tilting his head to the side as if he wanted to repress the memory. "I guess as I am operating under the guidance of a mentor, you’ll need to hold them accountable and… Oh that’s you. So I guess if anything, it’s your fault." He offered cheekily, extending an arm in Tony’s direction when...

"What did you just say?!" Tony’s response lightning fast, the wide eyed look of surprise from earlier back on his face.

"Alright, alright. I take that back, but you can’t deny the similarity in my bad excuses with some of yours." Peter tried to backpedal but his mentor clearly wasn’t done.

"You barely even knew me back then. Even the ferry was after like one meeting… and you were barely a fetus," Tony shot back once again. In Peter’s defense, he actually stood his ground pretty well when the pair were deep into a conversation dominated by banter. He had no doubt the kid would be dishing out just as good in no time.

"There was barely a year between your jog and us fighting side by side for the first time if you must know, Mr Stark," Peter proclaimed. A winning grin tugged at his lips when he could see Tony watching him, expression confused at the statement. "I attended the Stark Expo in 2011. I got separated from Aunt May and Uncle Ben when the Hammer drones were going haywire. I just remember hearing the footprints of one approaching, it was shooting at the crowd ahead of me, so I stopped. Ten year old me thought it would be a good idea to… er… take it on. I was wearing an Iron Man mask and glove so I was feeling pretty awesome and...heroic, ya know? Then like a dream, you landed next to me and said..."

"Nice work, kid," Tony added fondly, remembering that day and that moment like it was yesterday. "You’ve been keeping that one quiet, huh, Underoos?"

"I guess it's just, not very often, we er, get sentimental...ish" the teen concluded.

"And on the subject of sentimentality, it’s time to introduce you to the washer that’s going to fix you right up," Tony stated as he led Peter towards the back of the lab. 

Once there, Tony directed Peter to stand on two footprints on the floor before heading back behind a desk. Peter gulped when what could only be described as a blast shield surrounded him. Immediately after, two rotating brushes slightly taller than Peter came out from the ground either side of him and a third above him.

"You literally called my windscreen wipers an over-glorified car wash and yet you own one in your lab?" Peter questioned, placing his hands on his hips. 

"That is not a car wash." Tony corrected in a tone, sharper than he had meant.

"If you say so." Peter grumbled in a tone that definitely implied otherwise. 

Raising both eyebrows in amusement, Tony then pushed a button in front of him and a set of sprinkles Peter hadn't noticed turned on. His mask quickly covered his face as he tried to get a good grasp of his surroundings. Through the suit he could smell the faintest scent of chemicals. The pressure of the solution being sprayed on him increased enough so that it went from feeling like a sprinkle to feeling like he was being shot at with a reasonably strong water gun. 

"Hope you're standing firm, Underoos." The satisfaction in Tony's voice had never been so readable. Before Peter could reply with a witty comeback he was all but struck with strips of cloth that had fallen from the ceiling alongside the brush before retracting back. He instinctively put his arms across his face despite the mask’s protection.

Then the foam began. Peter was hundred percent sure Tony was deliberately overdoing it because the initial layer seemed enough but the applicators didn't stop and before he knew it he looked like a snowman. His body wasn't really distinguishable, within the washer. There was just a human sized dollop of fizzling froth. Peter had jumped when the scrubbers turned on, the sound of the hydraulic motors loud to his sensitive ears. He found himself having to tense to keep upright against the barrage of slapping as the whole area filled with bubbles, muck, water and cleaning solution spraying everywhere. 

The high pressure jet streams switched on and hit Peter with so much force he slipped, landing in a seated position. He found it unimaginable that Tony was able to withstand such force, though wondered if the footprints he had initially stood on opened up to secure his mentor's suit in place. Alternatively, it was highly possible Tony had gone through many trial and error runs with the washer and very likely ended up on his ass many times. 

After F.R.I.D.A.Y. had willingly shown Peter footage of Tony’s first test flights, he knew when he had a moment alone he’d be asking her for any evidence of mishaps in the washer. Despite the beating he felt he was taking from the water he found himself thinking about how Tony had got back up after being flung into the ceiling at such force during his first flight test. He was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of a dryer. 

When the drying stopped, the Iron Spider mask revealed his face and Peter frowned in confusion when Tony appeared to look at him with a scrutinising stare.

"It seems we missed a bit," he informed as he eyed Peter's right cheek up. A tingling down his spine warned Peter what was about to happen and he found himself having to dodge a spray of water his mentor had clearly aimed at his face.

"You're lining yourself up for some sweet revenge right here, Mr Stark," he taunted playfully.

"Oh, am I?" Tony replied as he pushed a button that activated a wide range sprinkler that lightly dusted Peter's face and hair leaving his curls shimmering with water droplets. The teen quickly made a hasty retreat from the area.

The equipment of the washer seemed to withdraw back into the ceiling and flooring from where it had come from and the blast shield finally came down. The suit looked brand new again and the teen couldn't help the impressed smirk that graced his face as he kicked each foot out for inspection. 

The smile instantly faded the moment he watched some sort of mannequin appear within the washer. Tony approached it and attached his arc reactor so his tech could encase the body before stepping back. Peter could only observe dumbfounded as Tony waltzed away, clearly suppressing a laugh at the teen’s outraged facial expression.

"Wait, I didn’t have to stand there that entire time?! Are you kidding me? Dude, that is not cool."

Tony simply threw his head back, his laughter uncontrollable. 

"Consider that payback for treating me like a personal theme park ride," he managed, wiping his face as he’d laughed so hard a couple of rogue tears had rolled down his cheek.

"Do you have proof that I even did that?" Peter challenged, crossing his arms.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Tony called up to the ceiling.

"Currently trending on twitter, hashtag Iron Man, hashtag Spider-man, hashtag SuperheroWatch, hashtag AvengerLookOut. News articles trending, ‘Spider-Man caught ironing out crime with some much needed hero assistance.’"

"Not entirely true," Peter mumbled under his breath as he tried to ignore the hologram picture someone had captured of his antics.

"‘Goofy-footed Spider-Man rides an unlikely iron surfboard!’" F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued.

"Bit rude," Peter protested, voice louder than before. At the corner of his eye he could see Tony looking at him with that _I told you so_ face. In his defense, he nailed it everytime.

"Well, I guess that settles that then," Tony said with a satisfactory nod. "Anyway, whilst my suit cleans how about we head upstairs and order food?"

"Sounds good, Mr Stark. I’m starving after all that hard work." Peter replied with a hint of sarcasm. Tony simply scoffed as they entered the elevator and made their way up to the penthouse level.

"I can hear you thinking about ways you can improve my suit washer and I already know I don’t want to hear it." Tony affirmed, barely looking in Peter’s direction. 

"If you insist." Peter replied with a shrug of his shoulders and a lopsided smile. 

When the elevator pinged Tony had headed straight for the main room whilst Peter stopped off at his room to change into comfier clothing. It didn’t take him long to pick out a pair of casual sweatpants. T-shirts, on the other hand, were a whole other board game. He had a vast collection of mathematics and science pun tops often eliciting different responses from his mentor when he had seen them. As he sifted through the first few, he immediately found one that Mr Stark often enjoyed. In fact, it had the man genuinely smiling in amusement at it, as if it was just one of those jokes that would never get old no matter how many times he saw it. He put it on with a triumphant grin on his face before grabbing a pair of Iron Man socks for good measure. A quick look in the mirror revealed his curls were unruly from the sprinklers, the teen quickly deciding he would leave them as they are. 

Peter dashed into the room, skidding to a halt by the kitchen counters and startling Tony in the process. Tony was going to make a remark about how the kid was going to give him another heart attack when his eyes dropped to the top he was wearing.

"Hmm. Nice shirt," the older man hummed with a bright smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave an approving nod. _Nailed it_ , Peter thought to himself as he smiled back in quiet victory. "Socks aren’t bad either." Tony added.

"Thanks. They were gifts from someone who, although older, seems to have pretty good fashion taste," he goaded with a quick waggle of his brows daring Tony to challenge him. His mentor’s eyes narrowed before opting for a gentle shove of the shoulder. They both knew Peter could have dodged it but the teen allowed the revenge. 

"How does pizza sound?" Tony asked as the pair made their way to the sofa.

"Perfect," Peter answered quickly as he flopped backwards into his comfortable spot, exhaling deeply as his body sunk into the soft cushions. He allowed one of his hands to glide through his messy hair before closing his eyes. 

"Good because I already ordered anyway," Tony declared as he sat down with a little more grace than his mentee had. 

When food arrived the pair ate in almost complete silence, settling for an episode of _House_ in the background. 

"Hear me out. Miniature droneys that can spray the suit clean rather than hitting me full force in the face with turbo jets." Peter suggested as he reached for a slice of his pizza.

"I knew I didn’t want to hear any of your improvements." Tony whispered to himself. "Alright, I’m done already. Pick a movie, kid. It’s your evening after all and I’m bored of this pompous asshole doctor sitcom. Reminds me of a certain someone." 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., start a Star Wars marathon up," Peter requested, looking up at the ceiling. 

And with that, the lights in the living area dimmed and the TV turned on, surround sound immediately kicking in with the opening theme. 

For the remainder of the evening, Tony found himself prompting Peter to keep eating and drinking as he quickly became far too engrossed in the TV to consider anything else. He was comical to watch during movies, Tony often catching the many funny faces being pulled in his peripheral vision. Gleaming eyes, hearty giggles and exasperated grimaces where his nose wrinkled as his mouth fell open. It was almost a surreal feeling to think he had briefly met the kid sitting beside him now, all those years ago. It had also been a stark reminder of how much Peter had looked up to him throughout his childhood. And with the disclosure now out in the air too, Tony couldn’t help but try and stop the warmth in his heart from growing and the sense of protectiveness swelling further.


	2. I Didn't Choose the Rug Life, the Rug Life Chose Me

Peter was directly above the target he needed to capture. Despite the room being small, the enemy hadn’t seemed to notice the stealthy advantage he had managed to give himself. In a swift motion, he dropped from the ceiling, hands prepped to grab on, when the target moved just out of his grasp. As Peter landed roughly, he fired several web-shots in the direction of the enemy, their flapping movements managing to dodge every single one. They quickly moved across the living area before coming to a halt at a doorway.

"Look, I didn’t want to have to do this," Peter said breathlessly as the pair stood off against each other, looking the very image of a wild west movie. He was met with a simple shrug before they charged in his direction. The teen spun on his foot then arching backwards lithely to dodge the incoming attack. As quickly as they’d come from in front, they were coming from behind him.

The assailant was now striking at him hard and fast and he desperately needed to get some space between them. There seemed to be an easy pattern to their fighting style at least, coming at him from the left side then right simultaneously. When a right side attack was due, he reached out with his hand in an effort to stop it rather than dodging. Unfortunately, they retreated back too quickly for even his reflexes. With a pout, Peter webbed a cushion from the nearby couch and used his enhanced strength to fling it at the target as hard as he could. It made direct contact, finally putting a couple of feet between them.

"Come on, man. I didn’t want to _stain_ your impression of me but you’re making this harder for me to _brush_ off," he jested with a tilt of the head. 

When the offender dove for him, the teen attempted to jump as high as he could out of the way, only to be met with a grip around his left ankle that sent him flying into the coffee table across the room. Flecks of wood sprayed across the room and Peter could only grimace at the damage that had been caused. From the ground, he fired a web that finally hit its mark, latching onto the bottom right of the material. They quickly tried to escape him, which led to an epic tug of war.

"That was not cool. Aunt May won’t just be mad at me, she will be mad at you too you know. Now, I am going to give you one last chance to let me clean you, Cloakie." Every word was emphasised with a yank until the Cloak of Levitation freed itself and Peter opted to raise his arms in a surrendering motion.

Peter let out an indignant huff when the floating relic remained on the spot, not even a hint of wanting a truce or willingness to compromise. He relaxed his body just enough to trick the magical entity into thinking he’d given up. Once confident his charade had worked, the teen fired a web grenade, successfully sticking some of the red material to the carpet. Peter flipped over the furniture that separated them and did his best to bear hug the frantic movements of the Cloak.

As its panic grew, it swiped dangerously close to the teen’s face, movements growing in intensity and wildness. The superhero continued to duck until a clean, harsh flick from the relic freed it from its webby prison and landed a blow directly to the back of Peter’s knees, causing his legs to buckle.

As his body went to fall, he managed to grab hold of one of the brooches and gripped on as tightly as he could. As it thrashed, he was lifted off the ground and before he knew it he was wearing the Cloak. Whilst the feeling of flight should have been an exhilarating one, he soon noticed the trajectory was set on a collision course with one of the living room walls. He clawed at the material hugging his shoulders, looking for purchase whilst desperately trying to shake it off. 

It released him just in time for his face to slam into a shelf and break it. Peter's ears rang fiercely and his head exploded with pain causing his vision to whiten for just a moment as he tried to recover himself. He pressed a hand to his head, hoping there were no obvious injuries.

"Do carpet cleaners get this much grief from rugs or is it just you? Cause now you’ve _floored_ me twice so I won’t be _treading_ carefully anymore." The teen eyed the door for his bedroom. The pair remained tensely still for a moment before Peter made a dash for it, falling to the ground and sliding inside before slamming the door closed and activating his Iron Spider suit.

"Hello, Peter. Your heart rate appears to be elevated. Would you like me to call Tony Stark?" Karen intoned, causing the teen to jump at her voice. He honestly felt like he was in some sort of horror movie at this rate. Before he could answer her, the sound of rattling kitchen cupboards unnerved him, his hand tightly gripping the handle to his door. Deciding to brave a look, he curiously peeked out from a small gap. He could only pray to all the deities that existed that May wouldn’t return anytime soon as he assessed the room.

The teen’s eyes fell on the red material of the Cloak rummaging furiously through their belongings. As the relic froze its search and ducked down, Peter’s Spider Sense tingled furiously. Remaining protected by the door, he simply tiptoed to try and get a better look at what had been discovered when... _Oh, fudge._

"HEY! You better put that down right this instant, Cloakie!" Peter scolded, hoping the fear in his voice couldn’t be understood. It jolted forward as if taunting him and he flinched. His visors suddenly glowed red as the HUD locked onto the offending item.

"Life threatening substance detected. Instant Kill Activated. Calling Tony Stark," Karen prompted and Peter all but shrieked at her course of action. 

"Helicopter Parent Protocol Activated," Karen announced in Tony’s ear. It was unusual for the AI to push straight past F.R.I.D.A.Y., so he had assumed it was important until he’d heard the name.

"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself. 

"Peter appears to be losing a fight with the Cloak of Levitation. He was allowed to borrow it for the afternoon following a meeting with Dr Strange. The Cloak now -"

"And I repeat, what the fuck?" Tony interrupted much louder. "My mentee accepted a letter to Hogwarts and started taking secret magic lessons on the side?"

"Please…. Help… Mr Stark. Instant Kill... wont turn off!" Peter shouted, voice laced with the nervous tremor that he had always been terrible at hiding. The occasional swoosh and clink of the metallic legs could be head too.

"Alright, alright. I’m on my way," Tony replied, a spike of nerves hitting at the teen’s tone. In an attempt to ignore the niggling of jealousy, he racked his mind on how a red rug was somehow managing to cause Peter so much distress he’d actually asked his mentor for help. The Peter Parker who never asked for help, suddenly needed a hand to defeat a wizard’s handkerchief?

"The Cloak now has a life threatening chemical to Peter in its possession," Karen continued from her previous cut off sentence. And then that small spike of nerves Tony intensified into a cataclysmic explosion of anxiety in his head. 

"Give me some juice, F.R.I D.A.Y," he all but demanded as he could hear Peter’s breathing hitch then pick up. His thrusters engaged, lurching him further forward and before he knew it, he was locked on to crash straight through Peter’s window. 

The landing was anything but graceful, albeit done with minimal damage thanks to the teen having it fully opened already. He was on his feet and pacing towards the ajar door, pulling it open with more force than was needed before immediately raising his splayed palm and powering up.

"Put the can down or I'll incinerate so much of that fabric of yours you'll barely form a sock," he threatened and for whatever reason the repellent was unravelled from the material and dropped to the floor with a gentle clatter instantaneously.

"Of all the things I expected to see in my life. This wasn't one of them," Tony teased as Peter buried his face into his hands to hide his embarrassment.

"End me now…" he groaned, voice slightly muffled.

"Well that's certainly a feeling I can relate to," Tony replied casually as he eyed the kid up and down. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"I was trying to cook spaghettios and one thing led to another and it kinda exploded and it went everywhere and I managed to clean it everywhere but…" He let out a self deprecating sigh as he gestured his head towards the Cloak of Levitation. "It won’t let me clean it and it’s got tomato stains on it. The moment I tried to get it in the washing machine it went AWOL. And then we kinda struggled a little and then Karen started reacting really badly when it picked up the cannister."

After F.R.I.D.A.Y. analysed it and pulled up the information, Tony allowed his face plate to lift.

"Well it does have Ethyl Chloride in it, which whilst untested directly on you, did throw up some nasty results when Cho was playing with your bloodwork and chemicals to identify any weaknesses villains could throw your way."

"Bug Spray is my arch nemesis?!" Peter gasped. So into their conversation, they hadn’t noticed the relic turning itself to face them as each spoke, moving back and forth like it was watching a tennis match.

"Kinda, Spiderling," Tony declared, his face doing its damn best to be neutrally devoid of any of the anxiety and emotion he felt on the way to the apartment. "Well, we need to get this place cleaned up and we should probably take _that_ to the tower." He jabbed a finger in the air at the Cloak for emphasis. When it recoiled back, Tony scoffed before peering waltzing into the small kitchen and grabbing a black bin bag from an open drawer.

"Err…" Peter began before Tony started making demands.

"Alright, you either get in this bag willingly right now or I will force you into it and I can’t promise I won’t tear you to shreds first." He peered at Peter briefly just to whisper how surreal it was that not only was he looking at a killer floating curtain, but that he was having to make such demands. His heart did not need this level of stress.

When the floating entity remained firmly still, just as it had done with Peter, Tony let out a long, deep, audible sigh before the faceplate was back on his face and he raised both arms in the air. Four displacer sentries popped out from the back of the suit and surrounded him, two on each side. Nanites formed around his gauntlets as two energy displacer cannons swamped them, causing the Cloak to recoil back. With what could only be described as a sulk, it eventually seemed to accept defeat and slowly approached Tony, the tops of its collar drooping downwards. The nanite weaponry withdrew and in one rapid motion, he scooped the material into the black bag and secured with a tight knot. 

"That was…so badass," Peter fanboyed with no shame as he just stared at his mentor’s armour and then down at his own.

"Meh. You use your suit to create fairy maids, I use mine to convince magical rugs that murdering my mentee over tomato sauce is a bad move," His tone nonchalant as ever as he casually flung the bag over his shoulder with a sniff. "Let’s get back to the tower. I’ve got some people who will be round to finish clearing up and replacing that coffee table."

The mask of Peter’s suit reformed and the pair were already out of the bedroom window and heading back to the tower in record time.

"I swear to God, if I see any headlines about Iron Man and Spider-Man flying through the sky with some sort of hostage kicking and squirming in a bag I will lose my shit," Tony warned as he watched the rummaging refuse sack skitter across the floor of the lab. One arm was tucked into the other’s elbow as he rubbed at his goatee trying to formulate a plan. "I mean they somehow caught you surfing across my back."

"I think we got away with it," Peter hoped, standing in a similar fashion, though lacking the facial hair to stroke. Instead, he subtly rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease the pounding headache he had.

"Like you thought you got away with it?" Tony said out loud before a ‘tsk’ escaped his lips. "I don’t think we can use the armour washer, as that might actually damage it and we don’t need the Ministry of Magic coming down here and telling us off do we?" Peter couldn’t suppress the giggle at the rhetorical question. "On the subject of the Ministry of Magic. Not that I need to know but, you getting private lessons from slightly more fashionable Snape? What is that all about?" Tony asked not so casually when the teen had pulled himself together.

"I mean, if I am completely honest, I was just kinda curious if I had magic powers," Peter confessed.

"Fair enough," Tony regarded before his attention turned back to the bag, a rip beginning to form as one of the brooches broke through.

"I guess I don’t always feel like I’m enough and…maybe I’d be even better if I also had magic powers under my roster…"

"Hey. Enough of that,” Tony gently chastised. “I don’t say it enough but I’m proud of you, kid. Whilst I don’t fully endorse you going out in a onesie and taking on a highly dangerous alien tech-dealing turd or risking your life to learn magic from a rug, I couldn’t be any prouder of you. If anyone in this world deserves to be a superhero, then it’s you. And with just a bit of tinkering from yours truly, I imagine you’ll be the best of all of us in the not too distant future."

"You’re the best, Mr Stark," Peter complimented with a genuine smile.

"You’re the best," Tony replied, pointing a finger back at the teen. "Nah, I know I am. Now before we get too soppy, we need to deal with Dr. Frank-n-Furter’s cape."

"Alright. It’s already been a little while but Google says we need to scrape off tomato sauce as much as possible, if there’s any left after all the fighting. Then we need to rinse in cold water before using something like white vinegar as a pre-treatment. Then… It needs to go in the washing machine," Peter read out from his phone.

"And there was me thinking you were a cleaning whizz. You Google cheat," Tony accused playfully as he patted his kid on the shoulder, the pair closing in on the bag together. As they opened the refuse sack, Tony was firing all kinds of threats and taunts to ensure they didn’t get their asses handed to them the moment it was released. With a single tear, the Cloak of Levitation swooped out and glided back from the pair to take in its brief freedom. 

"Alright, this is what’s going to happen. He’s going to wipe you down and if you so much as struggle, I’ll get four suits to pin you down so he can." The threat was less received than the first. Goading him, the relic lurched forward a little causing both of them to jump before seeming to shake it’s collar as if laughing. Tony brushed his shoulders off, knowing he would be asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to absolutely delete footage of him startling when this was all over. He’d briefly caught the loss of balance in Peter at the movement and mentally made a note to keep an eye on any other symptoms. _Because let’s face it, he’s not going to admit he took the hit to the head Karen had informed him about._

The materials movement stopped and then it seemed to remain still, which Peter took as a go ahead. Grabbing a bucket and some water, he sat down on a chair and set to work at carefully cleaning away the muck, his touch tender and apologetic. In the background, Tony was casually playing with some of his weaponry, pausing to admire the nano-katar that had been formed. It was clearly an attempt to not only show off to the teen, but also a silent threat to the Cloak.

"I wonder if I can make my own nanite Mjolnir," he pondered out loud that immediately caught Peter’s attention. Then before long, they were both wondering if they could replicate a weapon and brag about their worthiness. 

"We’re still friends right?" Peter whispered to the relic who simply shifted slightly away in reply. "Aw come on, Cloakie. Don’t give me the cold shoulder." He sighed with defeat when it did the equivalent of silent treatment, not even acknowledging as Peter began dabbing vinegar on several of the bigger stains. The teen wasn’t sure why he felt so upset, his mood shifting so rapidly even he noticed it. Placing the rag down, he massaged his knuckles into his head again squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before returning to the stain removal. _Perhaps the smell of the vinegar is just bothering me._

The teen still wasn’t really sure how they’d get it in a washing machine, no doubt it had heard that part of the process when attempting to escape. He had been surprised at how well the Cloak had responded to Tony’s threats, although who wouldn’t when you’re facing multiple weapons pointed at all parts of you. 

"All done, kid?" his mentor called out when it was clear he was lost in thought, sponge dropping from his hand and into the bucket.

"All done," he confirmed. 

"Great," Tony responded before suddenly firing something in the pair’s direction. Peter had been able to dodge with a backflip, but the relic was now stuck in what looked like an oversized pillow case. Peter’s arm had to grab onto the wall to keep him steady, his cheeks flushing under his mentor’s scrutinizing gaze.

"Thanks for the heads up," Peter jabbed, glaring at Tony who had a single brow raised.

"Hey, if I woulda told you, it probably would have heard me and then we’d have no way of sticking it in the washing machine easily." He trailed over to the two before picking up the white material encasing the Cloak and heading towards the elevator. Peter was quickly catching up to him as they went down a level to what looked like a whole laundrette of washers. "Anyway Pete, consider this a bit of grace. I wouldn’t want its brooches getting damaged, or damaging my machines so if anything, I’m kinda looking out for us all."

"Looks like it," Peter retorted with teenage attitude as Tony unceremoniously threw the Cloak into a washer. The door locked automatically and the self automated machine did the rest.

"And now we wait," Tony said, pushing two buttons and clapping his hands together as water began to fill in the washing machine drum. He took a seat and gestured for Peter to join him, noting the look of apprehension on his face. "I need you to tell me if you’re okay? I’m seeing wobbly legs and lots of head massaging."

"I hit my head and it’s just a little sore," Peter admitted knowing there was no point in deflecting. 

"Are you feeling sick at all? Got blurry vision?" his mentor quizzed, gently taking a hold of his left forearm and applying a small amount of pressure.

"I feel a little off, but nothing worse than I’ve dealt with before. I’ll let you know if it gets worse," Peter offered and managed a half smile when Tony nodded in agreement. The lack of protest and symptoms he’d noted were all leading Tony to suspect concussion, which he’d definitely be keeping an eye on.

"You don’t think it can… drown, right?" the teen asked. And for a moment even Tony felt a flash of panic. “Cloakie isn’t drowning in the washing machine is he, Mr Stark?”

"Nah, I mean Strange must’ve spilt all kinds of potions and concoctions on it and yet it always looks pristine," Tony attempted to joke. No way was he going to let that question cause an existential crisis in his mind.

"What if it, like, self-cleans like a cat or something..." 

"You literally could not get any weirder at this rate kid. You know how crazy it is that I have stories about a kid who has a multimillion dollar suit that he turns into his own maid service. And now we're adding that you almost got taken out by a rampaging rug to the collection?"

Although Peter snickered at the comment, Tony couldn’t help but notice his mentee pale a little. How could he not be surprised that Peter of all people was feeling bad about what had happened. Or was he feeling unwell? There was a trashcan within reach if it was needed.

"I’m going to grab us a couple of sodas if that’s alright, Mr Stark?" Peter asked after he could no longer stare at the swishing water within the washing machine any longer.

"Sounds like a plan, Spider-man," Tony rhymed with a quick supportive squeeze on Peter’s shoulder before the teen hopped up and made his way to the elevator. Tony called up to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let him know if Peter so much as stumbled whilst out of view.

It seemed the duo had run out of time when Tony peered over his shoulder to see an orange portal being created and a stoic looking Dr Strange walking out, instantly locking eyes with him with those piercing blue eyes and glaring. Tony was quick to stand up and cover the view of the machine currently holding the doctor’s Cloak captive.

"Hey, Sarah. Or is it Mary… Wait, Winifred, is that you?" Tony jested, a shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Cut the shit, Stark, where’s the Cloak? I know it’s here," Strange ordered without a hint of friendliness.

"Ouch. Not even a greeting. What can I do for you Aladdin? Oh wait. Aladdin has a flying rug and you appear to be missing yours." Tony clutched at his chest as if actually offended.

"You’re gonna get one chance to tell me where it is before I open a portal for the kid’s Aunt to walk into that apartment whilst your guys are still there removing web from the flooring and bringing in new furniture," Strange threatened, knowing one of their greatest weaknesses.

"You think she scares me? …To be honest you’d be right," Tony confessed with a playful shake of the shoulders. Then the elevator doors pinged and Peter was standing in the doorway, drinks dropping from his hand. Tony internally face palmed.

"Where is the Cloak of Levitation, Peter?" the doctor firmly asked as the kid entered the room with a gulp. 

"God, you are… really annoying, you know that? Is that how you keep away the _mythical creatures_ when you’re not attending kid’s parties and pulling rabbits out of hats. You’re just annoying them to death?" Tony quipped, trying to get the attention back on himself.

"Well, one could say that is how I defeated the primordial interdimensional entity known as Dormmamu, Destroyer of Worlds," Stephen riposted with a hint of smugness before his eyes were back on Peter.

"Holy shittt, you’re here… I am so sorry doctor, Mister…Dr. Strange." The words were flowing out of Peter’s mouth before he can even stop them. The room suddenly felt cramped and the air hot as he wondered how on earth he could even begin explaining his predicament.

"Language, Underoos," Tony said firmly as he gestured for Peter to join his side, a protective arm outstretched.

"There’s actually scientific theories that the use of taboo language has positive effects on a physiological and psychological level," Stephen replied dryly as he eyed the duo up. "Now, where is it?"

"Did you just try and undermine me in my own home that you’ve broken into?" Tony questioned, both eyebrows raised and hoping that any second now there would be a ding as the washing machine finished.

"I was unaware you were his father. Now stop trying to detract, it won’t work. Where is my Cloak?" Strange countered as his attention was drawn to the one machine running in the room. _Surely they wouldn’t,_ he thought to himself with narrowed eyes.

"If I was his father, I definitely wouldn’t have signed the consent form for your little private magic lessons, _Gandalf._ " Tony drawled, deliberately pausing before the name calling.

"Is that jealousy I’m detecting in your voice, Stark?" Strange deduced as his eyes studied everything about Tony, causing the hero to shift ever so slightly in discomfort. The doctor couldn’t help but admit it was slightly satisfying to see the genius billionaire tense up under his scrutinous, intimidating stare.

"Erm, what is happening?" Peter asked nervously, fumbling his hands together awkwardly. He wanted to force out a laugh, but he honestly doesn’t know if they’re joking around or prepping for a fight. 

"Iron _Dad’s_ just projecting his parental values despite being in denial of them in an effort to not tell me where my relic is," Stephen replied, choosing to keep his focus on the kid’s mentor. "Now are you going to tell me where it is, Peter? Or do we need to tell Aunt May about today’s antics. I know _something_ has happened."

"You know, it's pretty much the opposite of an insult when you egg me on about seeing Peter as my son. The jokes on you because it would be a damn privilege to be the father of such a brave, kind, intelligent teen." Peter’s eyes widen at the admission as Dr Strange opens his mouth to retort back, but soon shuts it again. Tony’s arm pulls Peter a little closer into his side, the teen unsure if he feels like he’s a kid about to be embarrassed by a parental figure or if he looked that awkward at the exchange that Tony was just offering a sympathetic gesture. "And that brave, kind, intelligent teen nearly got fucking killed by your _rug_ so actually, it deserves the current torture it’s enduring." _Ah, there it is._

"I can explain," Peter attempted to divulge but quickly clammed up at the doctor’s attention being on him. A single brow rose as Stephen awaited the explanation, but Peter didn't want to admit his own failing. He wished he could come up with another excuse or lie but the truth is on the tip of his tongue wanting to break free. His mentor no doubt felt the way he tensed up as he’s offered another gentle, comforting squeeze.

"Your _cape_ is getting a well deserved wash," Tony intervened and he shifted both himself and Peter to the side so Strange could see the guilty washing machine.

"Son of a bitch!" the doctor scowled, the expletive shocking the pair as it seemed so uncharacteristic and wrong coming from his usually calm demeanour.

Stephen had never moved so fast as he crossed the distance, endeavouring to free his companion. When the machine wouldn’t open, he met the smug gaze of Tony briefly before narrowing his eyes and opening a portal. He should have known better than to expect any help. 

The Cloak flew out at high speed, breaking free of the material it had been wrapped in. The doctor deliberately left the portal open long enough for the bubbly water to hit the floor as the relic shook itself off, almost like a puppy would after a bath, ensuring it covered a maximum range to spray. Peter and Tony both winced, unable to suppress the groans as water sprinkled in their direction. When the magical entity finished off with a whipping motion towards the pair’s feet, Peter took an instinctive step back.

"Does…. Does it hate me now?" he enquired with the biggest, brightest, most innocent expression his brown eyes could muster. "I… I literally split something on it whilst cooking and I didn’t want you to be mad at me. And I just wanted to clean the tomato stains out because I didn’t want it ruined and you know that wouldn’t be a good superhero look and-"

"Alright, stop with the rambling," Stephen groaned. Tony rolled his eyes, though in a good-natured, _that's-my-kid_ kinda fashion. The Cloak seemed to whisper in its owner's ear and they turned away from the prying eyes.

"Does that thing even need any privacy? It doesn’t even make any vocal noises," Tony grumbled, unable to contain his confusion. The now-damp relic seemed to make a horrified gesture in his direction before they continued their ‘chat.’ With a final nod, Dr. Strange turned to face Peter.

"The Cloak of Levitation doesn’t hate you," Stephen addressed, noting the teen’s posture visibly relax. "But he truly, deeply, from the bottom of his hem, loathes you more than any other existence in the world." The mystic's eyes now on Tony. 

"Join the club," Tony announced nonchalantly. "No sweat from me. Just don’t go using me as your villain origin story."

"Well, we're now off to a lovely, sunny destination so it can dry off," Stephen announced as a portal opened to what looked like a beautiful empty beach. "We won’t be forgetting this. See you next time, Peter." They were gone and the portal closed before either could say goodbye. After a few minutes, Tony and Peter found themselves looking at the flooded floor.

"We’ll get DUM-E to clear it up," Tony affirmed as he led them towards the elevator. Peter was scratching at his neck, clearly happy enough that he hadn’t lost a ‘friend.’ but clinging onto the regrets and guilt of the situation. 

"So, you want to teach your old man some magic tricks?" Tony suggested with a smirk as the elevator chimed and they walked into the lab.

"I thought I didn’t have the consent forms to do magic, _dad,"_ Peter promptly denied in a playful manner.

"Touche, _son,_ " Tony surrendered as he peered at the teen with a rare but well thought out expression of fondness and affection. "That didn’t seem too weird… did it?"

"Some super weird magic guy seemed to say it before we even had,” Peter validated, returning _the look._ It wasn’t one he often spotted but when he did, his heart swelled at the prospect of a father figure in his life. The trail of thought was quickly interrupted by his stomach loudly grumbling. "Pizza? I didn’t actually eat my lunch because it ended up sprayed all over the apartment."

"Pizza sounds good to me," Tony confirmed as he took a seat at his workbench.

"Good because I already ordered anyway," Peter declared as he sat at his own workbench, raising both eyebrows at Tony who’d turned around at the audacity the teen had just shown.

"I see it’s going to be like that, huh? That concussion has upped your courage," Tony rhetorically questioned knowing this was part of his payback following the _washer_ incident.

"What can I say? I learnt from the best," the little shit quipped as if it had just been another normal day in the life of Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for all the lovely comments, kudos and bookmarks ❤️💛
> 
> Next Saturday, Tony's going to tackle some laundry without the assistance of a self automated machine. Easy peasy... Right?


	3. Live and Let Dry

For as long as he could remember, Tony had known and made it abundantly clear he never, ever wanted children. During his partying days, there had been zero appeal in having to look after a tiny human version of himself, so dependent and fragile. As he’d matured, the idea of not wanting to be tied down switched to just being downright terrified. When he had become Iron Man and invited the world of villains into his life. And let’s face it, a villain was always going to try and exploit his vulnerabilities, and a mini-me dependent on him would be top of that list.

Despite all of that though, along came Peter Parker. Before Tony could fathom what was happening, he knew he was growing far too attached. And in true Stark fashion he initially turned to denial and attempted to ignore the teen. Happy quickly became the focal point of contact to try and create a barrier, but not only had it completely backfired and ended up being a disaster, it hadn’t really kept Peter away at all.

Tony often found himself listening to the voicemails left so full of enthusiasm as he debriefed Happy on his neighbourhood activities. Then there were the text records and occasional clips whilst he was out patrolling and engaging with the public who absolutely adored him. The more he watched and listened, the more endearing the kid became, and it didn’t take long for Tony to come to the decision that he needed to step up.

But this was Tony. And he couldn’t be a father. He would never deny he cared for Peter, but it would keep dipping into something a bit too close to paternal love which was something he was too fearful to allow any development of. Tony needed to stick with  _ just _ being a mentor and  _ just _ ensuring the kid was safe. Choosing to tackle his newfound responsibilities head on, their routine became far more fixed with Peter visiting the tower on a structured, regular basis. May had also become an integral part of his life and boy was she an absolute anchor at times.

The compound had become a less prominent feature in his life. After the team broke up, the site had only caused Tony’s anxieties to rise, often needing to carry a stress ball with him for the sparse amount of times he visited. He had been far calmer when back at the tower, which had very much become a comforting safeguard for him. This had been undoubtedly helped by the permanent evidence of Peter’s presence, even when the kid wasn’t there. He couldn’t count the amount of times a pen had jabbed him when he had gone to sit down on the couch from where Peter had been completing homework. Or the way one of the breakfast bar stools was creeping down to his height level.  _ Or _ the way he often had to dodge pieces of Lego on the floor. He wasn’t even going to get started on the trash programmes that would often come up when he would turn it on his television.

In a split second, life for all of them would change dramatically. A majority of the superheroes, Rogue Avengers included, had been summoned and then split into safe houses under house arrest due to some further political bullshit. 

Naturally, Nick Fury had decided that Tony was best suited to be in a small house with none other than Steve Rogers—a man he hadn’t seen since he’d quite literally broken his heart and trust in possibly the worst way, before leaving him for dead. For the sake of the other occupants in the house, they’d briefly exchanged words with one another. Tony had insisted on Peter being with him when he’d found out that his Aunt had not fallen under the requirements and he absolutely didn’t want the kid exposed to high levels of animosity.

"I can hear you thinking. Get some sleep," Tony muttered, choosing to ignore the stare Stephen and Steve were giving him. The pair were unaware of the ins and outs parental relationship between the older man and Peter. In fact, Tony had barely accepted it himself that he’d become more of a father figure than a casual mentor.

With an apologetic hum, Peter shifted in position, wanting to face the door in an instinctive, protective move. Instead, his gaze met his mentor who simply raised a brow before he tried drifting off again. His mind was being ravaged with what-ifs regarding their situation and he craved hearing his aunt’s voice again. It had been at least a week since they’d cut his contact with her. 

An hour had passed and despite his eyes being closed the entire time, Peter had not managed any sleep at all. He had heard Stephen leave for his own room, footsteps light as ever. Tony had fallen asleep on a nearby couch, his breathing even and heart beating at a relaxed rate. 

Then there was the final person in the room.

He was sure that Steve had remained awake the whole time as well, and likely knew Peter hadn't dozed off either. The pair had simply chosen to neither acknowledge that fact nor engage with one another. That was until there was a shuffle of feet heading towards the kitchen from Peter’s left.

"Not able to sleep either?" Steve queried in a hushed tone. Peter shifted into a seated position, rubbing his eyes as he watched the Captain grab two mugs from a cupboard.

"Not really," he responded blearily, unable to suppress the yawn that escaped his lips. 

"You want to talk about it?" the older man offered as he filled the kettle and flicked it on. 

"I think I just need some air," Peter mumbled. He cautiously glanced at Tony before slowly standing from the sofa in an effort not to disturb him. Catching the kid’s concerned look at his mentor, Steve abandoned the mugs and kettle and began towards the back door, gesturing for Peter to join him.

The pair walked in silence, extra care being taken to shut the door behind them. Peter warily followed until Steve stopped at a bench overlooking the moonlit forest before them. The teen eventually sat on the seat alongside him, legs dangling off and swinging into the air as he studied the night’s sky. He could feel Steve’s stare on him, eventually conceding with a sigh and looking in his direction.

"Cookie for your thoughts?" Steve asked, offering an opened packet of biscuits that honestly smelt delicious. The reluctance in answering that question was immediate and likely showing, but the Captain didn’t push for an answer; he simply placed the packet between them and before looking at the view before him, not wanting to pressure the kid.

"You have a really warped perception of him. You always have," Peter quietly accused after a while, clearly clenching his jaw as if to stop anything else from spilling out.

"There are a lot of things you don’t understand,” Steve replied quicker than he knew he should have.

"Then how about you tell me? I’m not naïve because he’s my childhood hero, ya know? I know there’s been mistakes made, but I also know there have been misunderstandings that have been used by the media to try and tarnish his character." Peter was quick to stop himself, teeth grinding. But when Steve didn’t stop him, he decided to let out some of his pent up frustrations. Frustrations that weren’t all aimed at the Rogues, because a small part of him had also wished Tony had utilised him after the airport fight. "When Mr Stark announced he was Iron Man, nearly everyone thought,  _ wow, what a big ego. What a narcissist.  _ Well what if he just maybe didn’t want to lie anymore? Just maybe he had faced the ultimate betrayal from his father figure and wanted to end the cycle once and for all. Maybe instead of the automatic assumptions that he’s just in it for himself, you need a reminder that he carried a nuclear missile through a wormhole. That he’s just trying to do the right thing, but will likely never feel like he’s done enough because he’s so riddled with guilt." The teen stopped again, taking a shaky breath. The last sentence had just been a little bit too close to his own heart. Closing his eyes momentarily, he mumbled an apology, skittishly biting at the inside of his cheek that he’d just unloaded on Captain America.

"Don’t be sorry, Peter. Because, truthfully, you’re right. You’ve clearly thought about this a lot and I respect that. Whilst I won’t take the blame for everything that’s happened, I am aware of my biases and I do regret how things were handled," Steve acknowledged, unable to deny the tug in his chest at the poor kid sitting next to him. 

"It’s just really hard to see someone you… care about hurt so much," the teen confessed. It wasn’t often he got to speak about superhero thoughts and feelings with another superhero. Tony often shied away from conversations heading in a sentimental direction.

"For what it’s worth, I already told him this but I’ll tell you too. I know I was selfish in my actions. I convinced myself I was protecting him from the truth when really I was protecting myself. And he deserved better. He still does." 

"Yeah, he does," Peter whispered, legs halting from their swinging for a moment.  _ This is not the time for self doubt, Parker,  _ he thought to himself when intrusive thoughts threatened to try and convince him he wasn’t good enough and that somehow this situation was all his fault. With a miniscule shake of his head he turned to his left slightly at the sound of a gentle rustle of trees in the distance.

"You’re good for Tony, you know." The older man’s tone was sincere as he followed Peter’s stare.

"You think?" Peter replied, the chill of the night air more noticeable on his flushed cheeks. Despite not being in one another’s company long, Steve had been acutely aware that the teen didn’t do well in the cold and the current night’s air certainly had a bite to it. He almost wished he’d insisted on a coat or blanket.

"Yeah. You bring out a kinda awkward, overprotective  _ dad _ side to him. It suits him—suits you both, to be honest. From the little I’ve seen, anyway," Steve admitted fondly. It had been glaringly obvious that the pair looked out for each other. The teen was often at Tony’s side, the loyalty and protectiveness so obvious to everyone  _ but the pair themselves.  _ The couple of times Tony had almost stumbled, Peter was there arm outstretched ready to ensure he was steady. His Spidey Sense would be quick to let him know if something was about to be dropped and he’d be there in a second.

"Thanks," Peter said shyly. He’d not anticipated that he’d actually have a one-on-one conversation with the Captain. And, truth be told, if one were to occur he didn’t think it would be as honest and genuine. The defensive wall he’d put up was definitely beginning to crumble away already.  _ Maybe things might just resolve for the whole team if they communicate this way.  _ "Sorry for kicking you in the face, by the way."

"No worries, son,” Steve offered as a shooting star caught his eye and a half smile graced his face. It had been a relief to let Peter know where he stood and he was glad the teen seemed to accept his justification.

"And for stealing your shield," Peter added with a hint of playfulness in his tone and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"Again, that’s alright," Steve snorted in amusement.

"It was kinda cool being able to tell my best friend I kicked your ass though, not gonna lie," Peter finished with a victorious smile plastered on his face. Steve chuckled softly at the kid’s youthful giddiness, the tension between the pair visibly dissipating as their body language relaxed further in each other’s presence.

"I’ll let you have that one," Steve approved as they finally made brief eye contact again. In what seemed like a truce, Peter took a biscuit from the packet, Steve following suit. 

The woodland ambience of the forest was soothing, crickets chirping and trees gently swaying against the night breeze. The moon was bright and full. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve couldn’t help but spot Peter’s head suddenly sinking a little as he restarted the notion of nervously swinging his legs, a slightly slower pace than usual.

"I really don't want to lose someone else that I look up to," Peter timidly divulged, unsure why he'd felt comfortable enough to make the sudden admission. 

"It's rough losing someone you love. But I can safely say that I think Tony's in safe hands with you around," Steve admitted, finding himself placing a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder. There was just something about the kid that reminded him of himself. A younger, skinnier, more reckless version but with a heart just as big—if not bigger. "And if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m all ears. When you’re frozen in ice for nearly seventy years, you lose a whole lotta people."

"I’m sorry to hear that," Peter uttered, rubbing his thumbs across his palms as he shifted gingerly. 

"Little late night rendezvous, huh?" a voice interrupted from behind, Steve’s comforting hand quickly retracting.

"Mr Stark!" Peter exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, mouth slightly ajar. His face paled as he was overcome with a sudden panic, hoping his mentor wouldn’t see this as some form of betrayal. 

"Little late for you to still be up. How about you head up to bed, kiddo?" Tony’s eyes never left Steve’s face, the death glare abundantly clear for all of them. The request wasn’t a parental lecture or said with any condescension, just a valid statement. It  _ was _ very late.

"S-Sure Mr Stark," Peter nervously agreed. He offered Steve a half smile before making his way back into the house. Tony reached out towards him and ruffled his hair as he passed by. A part of Peter had wanted to stay up, a nervous pang in his chest that was almost painful at the idea of his mentor and Captain America being alone, despite how much he’d managed to clear up alone.

He found himself looking out of the bedroom window on numerous occasions. Each time, their body language seemed fairly relaxed, all things considered. On his final check before he accepted he was going to crash, he was sure he spotted a hint of grace and acceptance visible in his mentor’s features. Barely giving himself a chance to consider getting into pyjamas or wrapping up in the duvet, he collapsed face first onto the bed in relief before his exhausted body instantly drifted to sleep.

It had been a couple of hours since Tony told Peter to head to bed. After a lengthy and, dare he admit, productive chat with Steve, he'd found himself outside the teen's room. The door had been left uncharacteristically open. When he peered inside, he couldn’t help but smile. Peter was lying on top of the duvet, limbs sprawled out and fully clothed. He quietly entered, muttering to himself that there had been no regard for housekeeping in the room as he carefully slipped Peter's shoes off. 

Crossing his arms, he pondered how next to rectify the sleeping mess before him. With a thumb on his chin and finger on his lips in consideration, he wondered if he should just wake the kid up enough to get him to at least release the duvet so he could tuck him in. A sudden, heart wrenching whimper left Peter’s lips and his face contorted into a pained grimace. Moving on instinct, Tony barely registered crossing the distance between them and perching on the bed. He lifted a hand tentatively, unsure if he should try and provide any comfort, the kid suddenly seeming so small.  _ What if he didn’t want Tony’s comfort? What if Tony just scared him more? _ The unwelcome thoughts were pushed aside when there was another soft cry as Peter grabbed a fistful of duvet and clenched so much so his knuckles whitened.

Tony’s fingers were instantly carding through the boy’s brown curls in soothing motions. Whilst May had informed him of the recent bouts of nightmares and decline in sleeping habits, he’d not seen it first hand until now. It was hardly ideal for a teen who carried all the world's problems on his shoulders and had absolutely reached their maximum stress limit that he was now under house arrest with a majority of the people he looked up and away from his only living relative.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," the boy whispered so faintly it was only just audible. Tony’s hand paused at the realisation Peter likely knew he was there. And if he’d had any doubt he wasn’t helping, that was all but gone. Before he could consider his next move, Peter’s frown returned and he began to nuzzle his head into Tony’s hand, wanting his mentor to continue. 

Ten minutes passed and Peter’s features were lax as his mouth drooped slightly and gentle snores had finally resumed. The teen looked so much younger and unguarded as he rested peacefully. He actually looked his age rather than a workaholic intern who wanted nothing more than to please everyone around him, even at his own expense. Topping all of that was his need to be a tough superhero single-handedly keeping Queens safe at night. 

Satisfied that Peter was now okay, Tony expertly removed himself from the bed. He felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of protectiveness—and was that a hint of affection too?  _ Was this what it felt like to be a father? _

Tony continued to convince himself futilely that he wasn’t having those kinds of thoughts again, shaking his head in denial. Deciding he was unlikely going to be getting Peter off the duvet, he grabbed a nearby blanket and draped it over the sleeping form before tiptoeing back out of the room and closing the door as quietly as possible. 

Peter sluggishly lifted his head as he arose from his deep sleep. It still seemed dark outside, so he was unsure why his body had woken him up so early. Then, a subtle tingle down his spine and a burning in his neck alerted him and he began to subconsciously assess his surroundings. Shooting up into a seated position, he studied the room, not seeing anything suspicious. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the faint sound of someone talking downstairs. Senses on alert, he decided to slowly creep out of bed and head down the stairs.

"Fuck… Fuck… FUCK!" was all Peter needed to hear before he dashed towards the sound of his distressed mentor. It was only down the corridor and through the living room, but that didn’t stop the adrenaline pumping through his veins, skin becoming clammy as he tried to suppress the onset of fear.

Tony’s breathing and heart rate were both rapid and his mentor was still swearing. As he drew nearer, it honestly sounded like there was a droideka rolling around and causing havoc within the laundry room. Utensils clattered as he dived onto the counter and slid across it in one swift motion. Peter kicked the laundry door room down with as much force as he could muster before hopping onto the ceiling with a surge of foam flowed towards him. After the initial confusion, he looked in to see a highly stressed Tony, his casual trousers damp almost up to the knees and his hair uncharacteristically messy as if it had been grabbed on both sides and pulled. 

"You better wipe that look off your face right now and not tell a single soul about this," Tony all but demanded, and Peter did his best to restrain a smirk. 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr Stark!" Peter gasped, crawling into the room and finding a spot on the wall in the laundry room. "Erm…do you need any help?"

"You’re a teenager. You don’t know how to do chores," Tony accused, eyes fixed on the washing machine. Heaps of bubbles and foam continued to pour out of it as it clattered against the floor, rocking violently. 

"Do you even know any other teenagers but me?!" Peter protested, raising both arms defensively from the wall so he was only hanging by his feet.

"Of course I do. And they’re all terrible," Tony proclaimed as he started rapidly tapping on the buttons of the washing machine. 

"Hey, but I’m not?" Peter defended as he got as close to the spewing machinery as he could.

"Alright, you’re not terrible. But all the others are. Now, can you please get down from the wall? Trying to look at you at that angle is adding to my migraine." He placed a single hand on his hip, the other rubbing his temples.

"Okay. Well, we need to cut off the electrical supply to the washer," Peter asserted as he hopped on the floor and let out a sharp inhale at the coolness of the water. He’d landed next to his mentor and immediately addressed him. "You know where the fuse box is in this place?"

Tony simply nodded, doing an incredible job to hide his shock at Peter seemingly able to jump straight into action.  _ That’s supposed to be his job.  _

This clearly wasn’t his first time dealing with a washing machine that had been flooded. He dashed towards the linked garage door, almost losing his footing on the floor that was slippery with sudsy detergent and dirty water. Within seconds, the washing machine power was cut.

When Tony re-entered the room he noted the clothes basket had been placed by the washing machine and took it as a hint from his mentee that he needed to remove the clothes next. The door of the machine looked like it had been forcibly opened, likely because it was unwilling to unlock when it was in the middle of running. Peter seemed focused on what looked like the colossal and rather futile task of mopping up the flooded room. 

"Er, thanks for the help kid," Tony remarked before touching a piece of waterlogged laundry. With a moue of discontent, he dragged the first load out. Bubbles and water landed on his lap, dampening his attire and surroundings further.

"Anytime, Mr Stark," Peter insisted. "These accidents happen all the time.” He wasn’t going to admit it, but he’d already spotted his mentor’s error.

"Was kind of expecting you to roast me… I mean, I probably would’ve roasted you," Tony admitted as he made an audible sound of disgust at a particularly frothy item of clothing.

"Please don’t use that word. It doesn’t suit… your  _ age _ …" Peter jested, holding back a grin as he took note of his bucket already being almost full.

"Straight for the heart, kiddo.  _ Ouch. _ You know roasting events used to happen as early as 1949 right?" Tony fired back, taking the now full basket to a sink and beginning the boring task of rinsing the clothes out.

"You’re  _ that  _ old?!" Peter mocked, his voice up an octave as a feigned look of surprise graced his face.

"Well, clearly I spoke too soon," Tony uttered, facing the teen with a dramatic and wounded expression.

"Nah, I’m kidding, Mr. Stark. Sorry. I’d never hit a man when he’s already do-"

"What on earth is going on down here?" Dr. Strange questioned as his head suddenly popped through a portal he had created into the room. He immediately peered down and raised a single, inquisitive brow at the damp floor. "Wow."

"H-Hey can we help you Mr… Dr. Strange, Sir?" Peter stammered, hoping neither of them had seen him almost drop the mop after startling at the doctor’s unceremonious entrance.

Stephen analysed the pair and the floor again. The trio seemed to have a stand off for a brief moment before his demeanour changed in a way none of the duo had seen. The look of amusement soon turned into an all-out hysterical cackle. 

"Do you mind?" Tony reprimanded with a glare so piercing, Peter was sure his mentor could see straight into the doctor’s soul.

"I can see the headlines now. The infamous Iron Man. There’s a reason he’s not Laundry Man or Dishwasher Man," Stephen chirped. Peter promptly bit his lip to prevent any laughter escaping. This wasn’t his first time watching the two biggest egos within the team,  _ or awesome facial hair bros as he nicknamed them with Ned _ , duke it out with one another. 

"Oh, ha, ha. Aren’t you hilarious? Stick with the balloon making, Harry Potter, because your comedic skills wouldn’t earn a day’s rent,” Tony retaliated. His efficient use of creating nicknames was admirable to say the least.

"Is this the amazing  _ Iron _ man's kryptonite? Excellent at ironing but piss poor at any other chore?" Stephen goaded, clearly loving every minute of seeing the millionaire in his messy, drenched, casual clothes sifting through ruined clothing.

"I will launch a dirty sock at you quicker than you can say abracadabra," Tony threatened, a dripping sock already in hand.

"I-It was actually me," Peter lied as he dropped the mop causing a gentle splash and then skipped towards the washing machine before lifting up the bottle. "I accidentally put shampoo in the washing machine. Teens like me can’t do chores, and even if we could, we wouldn’t, right? Tony’s just helping me with the clean up." 

Stephen could instantly see through the deception but decided against bursting the valiant bubble Peter had created. Realising the fun was over for now, he moved away from the portal and it closed with a gentle fizzle as orange flecks of magic hit the floor and disappeared.

"You didn’t have to do that," Tony voiced peering at the teen.

"Consider it payment for implying your old age earlier?" Peter bartered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Payment accepted," Tony concurred. "Were you also saving my ego by not telling me I’d managed to use shampoo instead of fabric detergent?" The teen felt a prickle of anxiety at the question, knowing he had but unsure why he didn’t want to admit it. He rubbed the back of his neck, which answered Tony without the use of words. His mentor simply grinned and approached the teen. With a tousle of the kid’s hair, he left the laundry room, Peter in tow. 

As if they couldn’t catch a break, they halted at the entrance of the kitchen when they saw Steve standing in the doorway, a look of surprise at the destruction within the kitchen and laundry room. He looked at the pair, frozen like a deer in headlights, their clothes comically wrecked.

The Captain had deduced something had flooded, not that it fully explained the amount of utensils being sprayed across the kitchen. Without exchanging any words, Steve pulled his phone from his pocket and turned his gaze to the pots and pans now floating across the flooded floor as it made its way further into the downstairs of the building.

"Hey, Nick. Yeah. I think we're gonna need a new safe house..."

As the van pulled up, Peter, Tony, Steve, and Stephen watched with anticipation at who they'd be joining. Sam was the first out, a look of disdain quickly morphing into a fond smile as he approached Steve and shook his hand. Rhodey stepped out of the driver’s seat looking like he had already dealt with more shit than he had ever needed to deal with in his entire life. He welcomed a hug from Tony as they exchanged a few words before entering inside. Stephen and Peter quickly went to assist the last two with the bags from the boot. Scott was instantly in fanboy mode over a real life ‘magician,’ bragging about his own card tricks that had the doctor rolling his eyes. 

"So, what did you guys break?" Natasha asked Peter, and for a moment he hadn’t even registered that Black Widow,  _ the _ Black Widow, was actually speaking to him. 

"Err. Well, our washing machine flooded the safe house," he informed her with initial hesitation.

"Nice. Scott was trying to tinker with some of our cooking equipment and may have set the kitchen on fire. So much for being an engineer. And so much for us being discreet," Natasha smoothly responded as they made it into the house and set the bags down. With everyone now inside, it was time to designate rooms and hopefully not destroy another property.

By mid-afternoon, everyone had settled into their new rooms and had found their seats within the large living area. They were all sitting very comfortably and watching the TV after a delicious feast Sam and Steve had cooked up. Peter, Tony, and Scott were permanently banned from entering the kitchen without supervision. Not permitting entry meant that Sam had also got a well deserved break from Peter’s rambling about his wings as well as ideas about expanding Redwing’s capabilities to include house cleaning.

Growing bored of sitting around already, the former airman looked around the room, a mischievous look on his face that only Natasha caught sight of.

"Remind me to avoid all bug-themed heroes with hyphens in their names cause  _ dayum  _ are they excitedly annoying," he quipped. "Dealing with Tic Tac for that long was bad enough. Now I gotta get the raid out to shut the kid up."

"I am right here you know," Scott exclaimed with a feigned look of offense on his face.

"And that’s arachnid in my case, actually," Peter corrected casually.

"It’s alright, kid. Sam just feels a little challenged when he can’t keep up with the geniuses in the room," Tony added playfully. There was a quiet  _ oof _ from Steve, and Rhodey had to bite his lower lip to stop a chuckle. Natasha continued to observe the exchange over the top of her mobile phone.

"Here’s a little science lesson for you, since you seem like you could use it then. How about some of my favourite elements from the periodic table: Fluorine, Uranium, Carbon, Potassium... Off," he wryly reeled off, a deadpan stare aimed directly at Sam.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" Tony spat, almost choking on his drink. The laugh Rhodey tried to hold in was unleashed and he roared, clapping his hands down onto his thighs. A wild and cheesy smile was plastered across the teen’s face when he caught Natasha giving him an approving nod.

"Oh,  _ oh _ . You wanna go a few rounds, Spider-Man? I’m sure I could wipe that shit-eating grin off your face," Sam challenged as Peter barely contained his own laughter, tears beginning to form as his arms tucked into his stomach. His cheeks were starting to burn and ache at smiling so much, something he hadn't done for a long time.

"LANGUAGE!" Steve scolded, eyeing his friend who looked like the complete epitome of a teenager throwing a tantrum. 

"Now, now children. Let’s save a rematch for when we have a more open field," Natasha suggested. "Like the Avengers Compound."

There was an awkward silence in the room as lingering eyes fell on Tony and Steve at the assassins suggestion. The pair could feel the looks and eventually turned to one another. What remained unsaid found its way in both their lips, curling as they gave one another a nod of acceptance and forgiveness.

"Deal," they said in unison. And with that, the room erupted into bets on who would win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for love! This fic hit 1000+ hits and I am overwhelmed with the support ❤️💛
> 
> Next week, Peter tries to hoover Tony's penthouse and it probably couldn't go anymore wrong if he tried.


	4. Another One Fights the Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning for this fic: A panic attack will occur towards the end (when Peter and Tony are in the workshop)
> 
> I also want to say a huge thank you to all the commenters, kudo givers, bookmarkers, EVERYONE for all the love and support. As someone who was too nervous to post their fics online for years it's really been so lovely. ILY all! ❤️💛

Peter's homework had been finished in record time. For once he didn't feel like his suit needed any upgrades and he would never consider tinkering with the Iron Man suit when Tony wasn't at the tower. _Well, maybe…_ he thought to himself with an amused look. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. had let Peter know that Tony had to attend a last minute meeting and would be running late getting back to the tower but promised cheeseburgers as a form of apology. Boredom had consumed Peter quickly, and a bored Peter was quite often a Peter who started performing dangerous tasks to fill in his time. 

For once he’d stayed away from impending doom, opting to first attempt a discussion with DUM-E. When the chirping robot had eventually stopped responding to Peter he turned his attention to chores, not that many ever needed to be done. It felt like everything had some sort of cleaning system in place already. _Hmm…_ Peter thought to himself. An idea suddenly popping into his head.

Thirty minutes later and nanobot sprinklers were dancing around Tony’s kitchen cleaning the already sparkling surfaces. They were designed to look just like his reconnaissance Spider-Drone, or Droney for short, but with cleaning mechanisms and tools implemented. Peter could only imagine how thrilled Tony would be to see the one design that made him cringe ever since _the car wash,_ prancing around his penthouse and washing his kitchen cupboards and sides.

"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y., you wanna hear some jokes?" Peter called up to the ceiling as he grabbed a vacuum cleaner and began to hoover the floor.

"Sure, Peter," F.R.I.D.A.Y. faithfully answered, as if she would ever say no to him.

"You know before Spider-Man happened, I considered getting a job cleaning mirrors. It was just something I could see myself doing." He couldn’t help but giggle at himself.

"That’s a good one, Peter," F.R.I.D.A.Y. instantly responded matter-of-factly, followed by the reverberating sound of an audience clapping and cheering throughout the room. The teen decided to save the next joke for someone extra special and who would absolutely appreciate his humour. Grabbing his phone he began to type.

Peter: _Hey Mr Stark, F.R.I.D.A.Y. mentioned you’d be back a little later than usual. I was bored so just doing some cleaning for ya. Dronone, Dronetwo and Dronethree are currently cleaning your kitchen up real good._

Tony: _I swear to God if you are using your suit as an all-in-one maid service I might just take it away again._

Peter: _you wouldn’t! anyway, suit is recharging but the drone army is fully operational and battle ready_

Tony: _Please stop cleaning. Do anything but cleaning with those bots._

Peter: _dishes before bitches_

Tony: _What the fuck, there aren’t any dishes to be done. Also, language!_

Peter: _chores before whores_

Tony: _PETER PARKER._

Peter: _alright sorry, my bad. ill stop cleaning when ive finished the vacuuming_

It was only ten minutes later when Peter’s brain was at it again and he just needed to output.

Peter: _what if cinderella was a baking servant instead of a cleaning servant and her name was mozzarella_

Tony: _Please stop texting me this shit_

Peter: _you misspelt quality material there_

Peter: _…_

Tony: _Don’t even think about it._

Peter: _so i tried cleaning some of your glasses with ketchup and it didn't work very well. but heinzsight is 20/20_

Tony: _You are going to be the death of me I swear_

Peter: _but at least you’ll have a really clean penthouse (:_

Tony: _MY PENTHOUSE IS ALREADY CLEAN_

With a satisfied snicker, Peter put his phone away and resumed vacuuming. He hadn’t quite realised how therapeutic it could be until he noticed he was actually on the wall rather than the floor. _Thank god for cordless hoovers._

"Peter, I must inform you that the walls do not require you to vacuum clean them," F.R.I.D.A.Y. gently warned. As if prompted to go one step further, Peter moved onto the ceiling. 

"Everyone requires a bit of TLC once in a while F.R.I.D.A.Y," he chirped, happier than ever. Living his best life he began humming, moving the vacuum back and forth to the beat with a sway.

"I am maintained quite well, thank you," F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed.

"I dunno, I've seen the aftermath of Mr. Stark trying to wash his clothes soooo," Peter trailed off on the ‘o’, the memory of the safehouse flooding fondly. _I still owe Sam a sparring match._ The AI chose not to reply to him, knowing it would just enable the teen further.

So sucked into his own little world, the teen had been almost oblivious to the fact that he’d hoovered every nook and cranny of the living room, kitchen and was now in the hallway. Just to add to his dramatic flare, his cleaning bots had also followed him, dusting and polishing anything and everything and without a single incident.

"You guys need better names," he thought aloud, not actually looking at his helpers but hearing the whirring of their mechanics around him. Lost in the thought of names, Peter barely registered his Spidey Senses going off. In a complete error of judgement, he shifted the vacuum forward slightly as he came to a halt and in that moment everything went _very wrong._ A searing pain of electricity shot across his arm, into his chest and then danced around in his head. A blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the hall, not that he’d fully recognised it as his own voice. His whole body was excruciatingly rigid before it finally slumped from the ceiling and he crashed into the tiled floor below. 

Peter wanted to open his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but his chest was so incredibly tight. His lungs screamed in protest as they desperately fought to get any air in. Through the ringing of his ears he thought he could hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. talking to him but he just couldn’t grasp onto any of the words. In a final act of rubbing salt into a pretty catastrophic injury, his senses burst into a cacophony he couldn’t prevent and the last thing he saw was the vacuum falling straight towards his face.

Tony was pacing outside the medical ward, so stressed he was sure he’d aged a decade. His mind was in a complete spin and he was squeezing the life out of his latest blue squishball in an attempt to relieve some of the pent up tension. So absorbed in the motions of stepping up and down the hallway, he didn’t notice his best friend James Rhodes approaching.

"Well you look like shit," Rhodey stated matter-of-factly before handing him a cup of coffee. Even if Tony tried to deny it, the bags under his eyes and visible stress lines on his forehead would have deceived him. He would forever be thankful that his best friend knew exactly what he needed.

"Every time I think I’ve dealt with the weirdest shit, this kid throws something else at me," he admitted, taking a sip of the coffee and letting out a hum at its deliciousness. "I swear I’m too old for this."

"Yep," Rhodey agreed with a pop of the ‘p.’ "I know that feeling. What happened this time?"

"He decided to hoover my ceiling and got zapped. Heart stopped. His _cleaning drones_ tried to hold up the vacuum but it ended up landing on his face."

"Well...That is quite possibly the most bizarre tale I’ve ever heard, and I went to college with you." Rhodey retorted in sheer surprise, eyebrows raising and jack slackening as he processed the information.

"This kid has the literal worst luck ever, I swear. You can bet that tomorrow he will be up and superheroing again too. Nothing will stop his need to want to look out for the little guy and help people even when he’s recovering. He has the biggest guilt complex going. Feels like if something bad happens when he could do something, it's on him and it's his responsibility. Permanent death will be all that stops him, I swear…" Tony hadn’t meant to offload, but absolutely didn’t regret it. In fact, it had instantaneously helped the pressure of having it bottled up for so long.

"Kinda sounds a little like a friend of mine," Rhodey threw out, sighing when he saw the pointed glare Tony was giving him. "Don’t try and tell me that the very becoming of Iron Man wasn’t you making up for all the bad shit that had happened, Tones. And don’t even try and convince me you’re not overburdened with the weight of feeling responsible for the past and still, to this day, are trying to clear up a whole lotta mess you blame yourself for."

"Yeah. But he’s too young to have to deal with this. To think he once said he wanted to be like me," Tony surmised critically, lips tightening as his jaw tensed. He hated feeling useless.

"You wanna pull yourself together for his sake, man. Why do you seem to be taking offense to that? You know how much of a compliment and privilege it would be to hear how people aspire to be like me? He doesn’t care about the laundry list of defects and fuck ups you might think you have or have dealt with." Patting Tony’s shoulder, he steered the pair towards some seats, waiting for Tony to sit down before taking the one beside him.

"Let’s not use the word laundry as a description for me…. And anyway. He should want to aim higher." Tony attempted to counter.

"But he doesn't. So if you’re the height he is aiming for, then embrace it. Even if it’s a little on the short side," Rhodey light-heartedly joked, earning a small curve of his friend’s lips.

"I will forever be dumbfounded by his decision to hoover a fucking ceiling,” he mumbled, shaking his head in dismay.

"Well, you should stop trying to work out how his mind works, because if it is anything like yours, it's an impossible task. Now stop this self loathing because it's stemmed from your kid being involved in literally the world’s dumbest accident that only he could have been involved in. And none of it was your fault."

Tony’s mouth opened to fight back but was halted by the sight of Cho walking down the hall towards them. He stood in anticipation and felt an instant relief when a smile graced her face.

"He’s stable, so you’re good to go in."

Consciousness returned to Peter slowly, and agonisingly, but still it came. Each sense found it’s fathering individually, the first being smell. The stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils. Alongside it came his hearing, a nearby nagging beeping close by had him struggling to put more than one thought together as his brain fought hard to work. Nervously licking his lips only amplified the discomfort of his incredibly dry and sore lips. The floating feeling had the teen feeling like he was in a dream-like state, like his head was rammed full of cotton wool. It wasn’t until Peter involuntarily whined at a sudden peak in nausea and uncertainty that he realised he wasn’t alone as a hand took a hold of his protectively.

"There’s my favourite young adult," a familiar voice said tenderly. Peter turned his face towards the fatherly voice and opened his eyes, his right eye still slightly swollen shut.

"M-Mr. Stark?" The teen said before a hacking cough escaped his irritated and sore throat. 

"Easy, easy," his mentor warned, releasing the grip from his hand momentarily. Peter temporarily closed his eyes again when the wave of giddiness became too overwhelming. He could hear the sound of water gushing from a tap and then suddenly a glass was being held towards his face. Had it been his choice, he would’ve gulped it down but Tony was in full control of the glass and would tilt it back to ensure he only took sips.

"I feel like I’ve been hit in the face with a shovel," Peter announced quietly already feeling a thousand times better after the refreshing drink.

"Do you remember what happened?" Tony started carefully, watching as the teen screwed his bruised face up in thought. "Don’t push yourself, it’s okay,” he continued when he could sense the apprehension in the teen’s lack of memory. 

"W-What did happen?" Peter asked hoarsely. It unnerved him when Tony seemed to flinch at the question. The older man grabbed the chair from behind him and it pulled it much closer to the bed so his elbows could carefully rest on the mattress.

"Okay. This isn’t a sentence I ever thought I’d say in my life but, in short, you were hoovering my ceiling and got electrocuted in the process. You then fell to the ground… And the vacuum landed on your face."

The teen had expected some sort of joke or pun to follow, but there wasn’t any. And then he realised how serious and stressed Tony looked. He was still wearing the royal blue pinstripe Art Lewin bespoke suit, white shirt undone and dishevelled. There was a dark red patch on his mentor’s shoulder that could have only been blood.

"I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter rasped. "I got caught up in the moment."

"Hey, what did I say? It’s okay," Tony forced out, desperately wanting to unsee the image in his head of Peter lying lifelessly on the ground that had haunted him since he’d found him.

Succumbing to exhaustion fast and surprised by the baffling circumstances that had led to his situation, Peter did the only thing he was good at.

"I’d tell you a vacuum joke… but they always suck," he managed as he fought to stay awake.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tony whispered in disbelief as he exhaled shakily. "Life is clearly returning to you well."

"Life returning… Like what? Like… I died?" Peter gasped, mustering the last of his energy to prevent his eyes from drifting any further closed so he could look at his mentor. When Tony’s complexion paled, Peter went to clench his jaw before immediately groaning in pain. 

"That hoover hit you real hard, you need to take it easy, alright? Cho has ordered a lot of rest." Tony said, steering the conversation away from death because he was unsure either of them could handle that. _Particularly him anyway._

"I think I can manage that." Peter mumbled sleepily. He didn’t catch what Tony had said after that as he allowed sleep to win its battle.

Tony and Peter had an astronomical sized level of intelligence combined. Until it came to timekeeping where they became about as useful as a chocolate teapot. It had been two days since Peter’s near-death-hoover experience and the pair had convinced themselves they’d just briefly pop into the lab before having an early night and eat a proper meal. Five hours later that idea was shot and they were both consumed in their own projects as music gently played in the background.

Over the last forty-eight hours the teen had been attached to the older man’s hip which had inevitably ended in a lot of lab time. Not that he would ever complain because the workshop had become one of his safe spaces. Being in Tony’s presence in itself felt like he was surrounded by a blanket full of security and loyalty. That accompanied with the soundproofed room to prevent sensory overloads and help with his focus left him with an incredibly, warm and humble feeling in his chest. 

Although working, Peter had spent a lot of time on a potential apology present. There had been a clear change in Tony’s behaviour and it burdened the teen to no end. He tried to push the niggling thoughts aside whilst he rearranged wiring but they were becoming louder. The teen paused for a breather before attempting to continue.

"Youch!" He screamed as the suit he’d been working on hit him with a quick jolt of electricity. Peter stumbled back, tripping on his own legs and hitting the ground harshly.

Tony immediately jumped out of his seat, facing the boy within milliseconds as he watched in fall to the ground in horror. Although his thoughts told him to run over and make sure the kid was alright, his body had other ideas. Then _it_ overwhelmed him completely.

The older man’s heart felt like it was pounding so hard it would burst out of his chest, the beat of his pulse vibrating across his whole body like he was going to jump out of his own skin at any moment. He felt uncomfortably hot all over, the hairs on his body standing on edge at the intensity. Tony instinctively looked towards the ground as his vision blurred, the sounds of the room fading out and becoming incoherent as if he were underwater. Drowning. _Did Peter just die in front of him? Was he dying?_ One of his shaking hands grasped onto the table, gripping it tightly in an attempt to anchor himself. 

Before he could try and turn his gaze back to Peter, someone or something gently took a hold of his free forearm and attempted to guide him somewhere, but he couldn’t move. He was stuck. Couldn’t breathe. _I’m going to die._ Tony was trying so hard to take a deep breath, but they were coming out sharp and shallow. Gaining control of the breathing was only made harder by the fear of the ground swallowing up, the tiles on the floor beginning to move like he was caught in a kaleidoscope. He thought he could hear his name being called, but his mind was racing so fast he couldn’t process any information, simply focusing on the intense heat of his skin now feeling unbearably cold.

The older man wasn’t sure how long he’d been out of it. All he knew is he must’ve blacked out or completely dissociated. What he was aware of was a pair of two small but firm hands gripping onto each of his shoulders. The grip steadily enabled the onslaught of shivers and nausea to become a back thought, as he finally pried his open to find Peter in front of him, 

"H-Hey, Mr. Stark. You’re right here with me. Try and focus on me… okay?" The kid asked apprehensively, his own nerves caught off guard by what had happened.

"Sorry kid," Tony murmured, voice weak as he exhaled. His eyes flickered behind the teen at the room, eyes desperate and needy as if he had been back in the cave in Afghanistan and unable to find the exit. _Peter’s here. I’m in the workshop. I’m home._

"It’s okay, Mr. Stark," Peter affirmed but he could see the look on his mentor’s face, a mixture of terror and shame washed over. The older man looked like he could be pulled back into the panic attack at any moment.

Tony was now breathing deeply, willing himself not to comply with the guilt wanting to crawl across his skin and take over. He was trying to force a smile but his mouth continued to pull down into a deep set frown, eyes blinking rapidly as they burned. With flashbacks threatening his vision, he turned away from the intense gaze of his concerned mentee, gnawing his lip and pressing his fingers into his lids in an attempt to avoid any emotion spilling over. 

Peter’s grounding grip on his shoulders loosened temporarily, only for the teen to wrap his arms around his mentor in a gentle protective hug, his chin tucking perfectly into Tony’s shoulder. The older man’s head leaned against Peter’s, his cheek grazing against the soft, curly hair. He tried to keep himself together for his mentee, but it wasn’t long before his shoulders gently trembled.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to be. Tony was supposed to be the guidance figure. He was supposed to be the strong one. And yet here he was, clinging onto Peter to reinforce the fact he was there and alive. Not sprawled across the floor in the hallway barely alive or lying motionless on workshop ground. _He’s alive. He’s okay._

"Are my emotional jumper cables successfully boosting you, Tony?" Peter asked, when the gentle shuddering had come to a steady halt and Tony’s breathing had evened out. His mentor let out a half chuckle, not wanting to admit that the hug had felt so overwhelming it almost felt like love. Peter had even used his first name which was potentially a first the more he thought about it.

"They’re working really well, kiddo."

"That’s what I like to hear," Peter remarked softly as he pulled away just a fraction so he could see his mentor’s face.

"Sorry." Tony’s voice had dipped down to an almost whisper, cracking with emotion he far too often suppressed. 

"No apology needed at all. Unless you really want to—then I’ll accept it, but not because I need it. Just because you need it," Peter stated, sounding impossibly young.

"I meant the fact I probably got snot on your sleeve," Tony confessed, his face contorting into a playful cringe. Despite the joking tone, there was an added insecurity in the statement that the teen picked up on instantaneously. This wasn’t a side of his mentor he thought he was permitted to see. Gone was the perception of invincibility as he flew through the skies, a blur of red and gold, as he saved the world. No more was the confident charade in an expensive suit, goading the media at a multimillion dollar gala. He was now here, in his casual rockstar t-shirt and joggers, kneeling on the ground of his lab completely open and vulnerable.

"I, I’m really sorry if I scared you, Mr. Stark. I wasn’t being careful and I should know better now and it was a mistake and -"

"Hey, it's on me," Tony reassured as best as he could clearly exhausted from the ordeal.

"I know you’re going to want to say no but can I interest you in maybe taking a nap?" Peter requested, using all the charm he could muster.

"Alright, I’ll take thirty." His mentor surprised himself by agreeing. The pair stood up, Peter’s hand bracing Tony’s elbow and arm. He was about to grumble when Tony made his way to the sofa rather than the elevator that led to his bedroom, deciding he had to pick and choose his battles. The fact his mentor had even agreed to nap was as good as it was probably going to get.

"Dim the lights, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," the teen requested as Tony flopped down and placed an arm across his eyes. Peter silently moved across the room to grab a glass of water which he placed beside the sofa and then webbed a nearby blanket, draping it over his mentor with all the care in the world. Skipping stealthily to his desk, he unplugged his laptop and then set himself up on the floor with Tony in sight. With a grin on his face he placed one headphone in and opened a folder of videos he had recently downloaded. 

"Now playing Test 1: Stark Washer Mark 1," the AI stated in his ear with a hint of amusement.

Barely twenty minutes into suppressing many giggles, the hairs on Peter’s arms raised and he shot up onto his feet. The elevator doors chimed open and he peered over a desk to see none other than Rhodey approaching the lab. Looking over at his mentor who was still resting soundly, he double stepped to the lab entrance.

"Hey Rhodey," he greeted quietly, gesturing for the Colonel to look over his shoulder and see his best friend sound asleep. He was met with an impressed nod.

"I brought burgers," he stated, lifting up a paper bag. Peter couldn’t help but lick his lips at the smell. The bag easily had at least five in there.

"Perhaps we should eat out of the way?" Peter suggested as he led them towards a desk away from Tony whilst ensuring he was still in view. "I don’t want to disturb him."

"Is he alright? Tony completing self care tasks such as naps is like one of those once in a lifetime sights known to man," Rhodey questioned, his concern hidden with the joke as he placed the bag on the workbench the teen had selected.

"Err…I kinda. He..." Peter clammed up instantly as he took a seat. He knew Rhodey had probably witnessed his fair share of seeing Tony’s struggles. But it not only felt like a breach of trust to admit it. He felt unbearably ashamed that he had caused it.

"No further explanation needed." Rhodey tossed Peter a burger before tucking into his own, knowing that hesitation from anywhere. "So, how long have you really been working for Tony exactly?" The older man quizzed, noting how much better the teen looked. He’d only seen Peter briefly asleep after the hoover incident and it was safe to say the bruises were now almost non-existent. The dark black circles around his eyes were just faint shades of yellow. 

Despite the peace offering of a burger, Peter’s nerves were evident. "Erm, about a year. And you?" A jittery chuckle left his lips at how silly the question back had probably been. He fumbled with the burger wrapping hoping it would detract from his furiously blushing cheeks and inability to make eye contact. 

"Years and years. We go way back. I’m definitely the record holder for knowing him the longest and actually sticking around," Rhodey said with the shake of a head as remembered his time at MIT.

"That’s an ultimate achievement right there," Peter jested with a weak laugh.

"Let’s just say he isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. He hasn’t always had good intentions, and there’s been a lot of dumb decision making along the way that can... put people off." 

"I mean, I think there are also a lot of misconstrusions too though." Peter found himself trying to defend. Rhodey studied him curiously for a moment, the look almost identical to Tony’s own look of inquisition and he felt a hint of sympathy and pride for the young teen. 

"Something like that. Us old timers have seen and endured a lot of shit. Particularly from the media. It’s refreshing to have young blood like you about, even if you’re barely outta kindergarten. You’ve also clearly done something right in Tony’s books because not many can say they have access to his penthouse in his own tower. And use his favourite mug particularly for something he would consider blasphemous like water. _And_ sit in his favourite seat in the house."

Peter didn’t think his cheeks could burn with embarrassment anymore but here he was just about stopping himself from choking on a piece of food. He had never been informed or scolded for sitting in the favourite seat or using the favourite mug. 

"Just promise me you’ll be more careful, alright? If you manage to hurt yourself doing mundane tasks around the house, you must be a walking heart attack when out on the field. And I think we all like to think we know the dangers of this lifestyle, but I never anticipated this happening." The Colonel gestured down to the mechanical brace before looking at Peter with a steely expression. 

The teen let out a huff before allowing himself time to think up a response. From the beginning, he’d just wanted to impress Tony, make him proud, and right now he felt like he’d done the complete opposite. _Or that’s what the outside world thought._

"Look. Mr. Stark honestly means the world to me, and I think he means the world to you too. So you know the last thing I ever would’ve wanted was to be a burden on him or the cause of any... problems. He’s done so much for me: given me a suit, an AI, parachutes, alerts that can be sent directly to him. Before Tony, I did the whole superhero thing in a tracksuit with no one to look out for me." He paused to collect himself. "I promise to be more careful in everything I do. Superheroing and normal life. I’ll _maybe_ even stop with the chores… Forever." 

"Okay. Okay. I’m convinced," Rhodey said solemnly, raising both hands in surrender. "I’ll admit there is an element of endearment about having to deal with a mini Tony Stark clone because... Well, I know a lot about that." His tone was now far softer. "I’m sorry."

Peter didn’t answer initially, not a hundred percent sure on what the apology was for. And his lack of response was evident, so he expanded.

"Sorry that you have to have Tones as your… mentor or whatever he is," he quipped quickly with a wide grin as he stood up from his seat and chucked a second burger in Peter’s direction.

"Hey Colonel Rhodes?" Peter asked, curiosity peaked as he also stood from his chair catching the fast food effortlessly. "You really think I’m like him? Like Tony?"

"Right down to the inability to grow facial hair as a growing teen and short stack height. Yep. Don’t worry though. I give it a few years and you’ll be like a good inch or two taller than him."

"Thanks man," he enthused with an awkward smile that confused the older man on why anyone would find that a compliment.

"As you’ve got everything in control here, I am going to carry out the duty that I swore an oath to and let Pepper know that he’s in safe hands. I’ll still be about so if you do need me, just let F.R.I.D.A.Y. know."

"Will do," Peter confirmed as he walked the Colonel out the door before finishing his burger and sticking the others in a nearby microwave. Before he knew it he was back by Tony’s side, continuing to watch the Stark washer struggles and tentatively awaiting his mentor’s wake up.


	5. Everything is Awesome, Everything is Cool When You're Part Of A Team

“Hey, Peter. I was wondering if you could help me real quick?” The teen looked up from his plate, almost choking on the food he’d just swallowed as his eyes widened in surprise. He lightly tapped at his chest as he cleared his throat to stop any further spluttering. It wouldn’t be mortifying  _ at all _ to keel over in front of the other superhero. Death by iceberg lettuce.

“Sure. Mr-Captain Rogers, Sir,” Peter coughed out, fork clattering onto the plate and a hand covering his mouth. The older man gave him a warm smile, apparently unphased by the reaction. 

“Thanks, son. So I thought I’d set up my laptop in preparation for the meeting shortly and I can’t seem to connect to the speakers. The cable didn’t seem to work and I didn’t want to mess with the internet. Tony mentioned there might be some portable blueteeth speakers about bu-” If Peter had waited just a few seconds later to take a gulp of his drink then he might’ve been spared the sheer embarrassment of not only cough-laughing at the leader of the Avengers, but also at said leader witnessing water shoot out of his nostrils. 

Steve was quick to take a step back at the sudden reaction before gently patting the teen on the shoulder as he quickly composed himself. He’d managed a quick glance down at himself, dark jeans and light blue jumper spit free. The same couldn’t be said for the dining table though.

As Parker luck would have it, Tony rounded the corner, almost dropping the tablet from his hand at the sight of Peter’s flushed face as he gasped for air. Steve didn’t know why he’d retracted his hand so swiftly, but it certainly hadn’t helped in piecing together what was just happening. Not far behind Tony, Scott made his way into the room, so absorbed in talking to himself that he didn’t see anyone in his peripheral vision until it was too late. The older man stumbled forward, knocking him out of his stupor as Scott clutched at his chest.

“Sorry man,” he managed, rubbing circles into his ribcage to ease the winded feeling. Peter had just about physically recovered from his  _ experience _ , cheeks still a faint tinge of pink, but at least now in control of his breathing. He was on his feet as quickly as his mentor had entered the room, making sure he was okay from the bump before grabbing a towel to wipe down the table. 

“You all setup, Capsicle?” Tony queried, taking a hold of his left wrist and squeezing it just enough to anchor himself.

“I was having some trouble finding the bluete-”

“Bluetooth speakers!” Clint called out, holding them up in the air as he burst into the room with far too much energy. Everyone knew Clint was never excited about meetings, unless he intended to pull some Barton shenanigans. Steve nodded to both Tony and Peter, who were now at the table, before meeting the archer and heading into the conference room with the necessary technology.

“You alright, kid?” Tony tentatively probed, a hand clasped around his mentee’s shoulder. 

“I may, emphasis on may, have nearly choked at seeing Steve Rogers and then had to endure him saying he needed help with  _ blueteeth,”  _ Peter confessed as he leaned into his mentor’s comforting touch for just a moment. It didn’t take long before he could feel the shaking of his mentor’s body through the arm holding him and looked up sheepishly to see Tony snickering. 

“I’ll do you a solid and pretend I didn’t hear you say that a leaf nearly tried to kill you. But Cap will never, ever be letting  _ blueteeth, _ ” Tony clarified, causing the teen to suddenly beam brightly, almost letting a chuckle out of his own. 

“I didn’t even get to correct him before I quite literally snort-ploded.” The grasp on Peter’s shoulder loosened just enough for him to rapidly wipe up the dining table. Without looking, he threw the towel into a laundry basket tucked beside a drawer, which they both knew was less for showing off and more just wanting to give his mentor his undivided attention now he’d rectified the mess he’d caused.

“Don’t sweat it, buddy. There’s been worse and far more embarrassing reactions to him.”

“Mr Stark. Are you sure there’s nothing you need from me in the meeting? You know I’m…”

“Eager to get down to superhero business. I know, kiddo. Like,  _ really know. _ ” Whilst the tone had been slightly on the firm side, it had been said with no malice or ill intent. “Look, if I thought this would benefit you in any way, I’d have you in there in a heartbeat, okay? Consider this grace from the incredibly boring side of superheroing. Paperwork galore, political bullshit. Not the kinda stuff you need to worry about right now and certainly nothing Gucci like supervillains.” 

Peter was vaguely aware that despite the declaration, he’d seen multiple Avengers entering the conference including Dr. Strange and The Wasp. In his mentor’s defence, all of them had been dressed pretty casually. No expensive suits or uniforms. Even Strange seemed to be in pretty bland clothes barring the Cloak of Levitation that had joined him. Tony also seemed to be lacking any of his trademark sunglasses, leaving the boy to conclude that there was no fear regarding openness or vulnerabilities being exposed.

“We’re ready, Tony,” Natasha said as she poked her head from around the corner of the door. He offered her a quick smile in acknowledgement before turning back to the boy.

“Now, before I go in there, Underoos. Just so we are absolutely, abundantly clear. What are the rules?” 

“Just clean up what is mine. No cleaning droneys allowed. No hoovering the walls or the cei-” The pointed glare his mentor suddenly shot his way had the teen clearing his throat before amending. “No hoovering at all.”

“Bingo,” Tony confirmed, clapping Peter’s back before making his way into the conference. “When you’re done, no trouble  _ at all.  _ Just play with your Legos or something.” And with the click of the door handle, he was gone.

There was an awkward silence as the teen’s gaze remained in the direction, just a hint of hope it might open and he’d be called in. With a defeated twitch of his mouth, he eyed the room up, noting that cleaning up shouldn’t take long at all. This would likely be more of a rescue mission for all the missing pieces of Lego that would undoubtedly be scattered under furniture and amongst pillows.

“Do you not mind that your nickname from him is literally a brand of underwear?” Scott asked from the kitchen from where he stood, immediately drawing Peter’s attention in.

“You-You’re not in the meeting too?” Peter queried dumbfounded. 

“I actually tagged along with Hope. They may have thought me and Clint would cause  _ disruptions _ in the  _ classroom, _ ” Scott grumbled, not that he wholeheartedly minded missing out if it was really going to be as boring as most anticipated. “Clint’ll text me updates no doubt.”

That peeked Peter’s curiosity further. Not that he wanted to look desperate for information at all or anything, he simply hummed with a single nod of his head before making his way across the room and leant down by his first target. The sofa.

“So yeah, the underwear brand nickname…” Scott said as he made his way into the living space of the open plan room.

“It’s not the worst nickname I’ve heard him come up with for someone, to be honest,” Peter admitted, his voice slightly muffled as his face pressed against the sofa. The first piece of Lego that needed rescuing just at the edge of his fingertips.

“So are you…” Scott paused when the teen grunted victoriously standing from his position with the piece in hand. “Are you, you know?”

“Am I what?” Peter queried curiously, a single brow perked up and mouth ever so slightly ajar.

“You know. Is he your…?” Scott tried again, rubbing his chin suddenly and breaking eye contact. His head tilted forward into the touch as if trying to retreat. The answer looked like it was going to be a no, but unsure how to get around it. 

“He’s my mentor.” Peter supplied, a hand extended as if physically delivering the answer. He hoped that Scott remained looking away so he couldn’t see the blush creeping across his neck, ears and face. It wasn’t the first time someone outside of the very close Stark circle had assumed Peter was some sort of secret love child. In fact, several of the Avengers had now pointed out how similar the pair were.

“Ha - Yes, of course. That’s totally what I meant. Say, do you want any help with anything?” the older man offered in an attempt to change the conversation. “I could summon some ants or something to get into those hard to reach places.”

“Whilst that sounds like it could be an absolute blast, it’s highly probable that we'd give Mr. Stark a heart attack. And I  _ unintentionally  _ do that enough as it is.” The teen threw the piece of Lego in his hands up into the air before catching it seamlessly and throwing straight into a nearby open boxset. Scott took the opportunity to approach, so the gap between them was now closed. He precariously lifted up the pillows, smirking at the reminder of having to do this kind of tedious house chore with Cassie. 

“Have you ever considered like... recording a Tony mentor speech and adding background music to it for effect?” Scott queried when he’d lifted the final cushion to find four biro pens.

“I hadn’t…until you just mentioned it,” Peter remarked, wondering where he would possibly begin. 

“I don't know if you’ve heard a Cap speech but... I definitely hear  _ Protectors of Earth - Two Steps from Hell _ running through my head in the background,” Scott explained as he closed his eyes and immediately allowed the song to play in his head.

“Nice… You got a video? I mean, you asked if I had a recording, so I am going to assume you’ve got one to share.” 

“I mean, I may have a speech or two. Like the one before we kicked your ass.” 

“I vaguely recall the both of us being floored, thank you...by each other, in fact,” Peter recounted as he watched the older man dig through his pocket for his phone. Scott simply let out a disgruntled hum as he flicked through the gallery to his  _ ‘Iconic Speeches’  _ folder. The teen playfully frowned at the sight of the names being a keyboard smash and could only wonder how they were actually identified. Before he knew it, there was audio playing and Scott was honestly way too into it. In the older man’s defence, though, Captain America’s voice and Two Steps from Hell were going together incredibly well. 

“Okay, so now that I’ve had the break, I should warn you I’ll be in procrastination mode. Let’s crack out one of your Lego sets and if anything we can just say we were making sure we had all the missing pieces,” the older man suggested as he quickly stuffed the phone back in his pocket then clapped his hands together at the plan. Peter hated to admit it, but it did sound like an awesome idea and the logic was kinda undeniable. 

“I’m so down for that. The question is, which one because I have an absolute metric tonne, literally.” The teen started to lead them towards a display cabinet, taking quick excitable steps. It wasn’t often he got to show off the pieces he had. Particularly the more expensive range that Tony had all but forced upon him, pretending it was a gift to himself. 

“Did you know that it’s painful to step on Lego because the human foot can have up to two hundred thousand individual sensory receptors?” Scott queried, the beginning of a ramble imminent at the joy of what he was about to see. 

“That plus the acrylonitrile butadiene styrene the Lego is made of gives it high rigidity, good impact resistance, good abrasion and strain resistance, high dimensional stability and...” he paused at the stunned look Scott was giving for just a moment before clearing his throat. “Erm, basically it’s a Satan breadcrumb.”

“Incredible,” was all the older man could mumble under his breath as Peter pulled open the doors to the cabinet. Just as he’d suspected, there was a huge mixture of predominantly the most expensive sets you could get; there was Darth Maul’s head bust, the Rebel Blockade Runner, the Imperial Star Destroyer and of course the Ultimate Collector’s Millennium Falcon, which was about seventy-five percent complete. Scott instinctively went to touch it but just about stopped the giddy impulse. The movement hadn’t gone unnoticed by Peter, who was unsure if the older hero was acting more excited about seeing it than himself when Tony had first unveiled it to him.

“Do you want to build the Millennium Falcon?” he proposed as he carefully removed the model from the shelf and handed it to Scott, who remained shell-shocked in place. When he finally took it, Peter retrieved the box with the rest of the pieces and led them to an area of the room with plenty of space.

The pair quite literally lost track of time as they almost completed the masterpiece before them. So engrossed in the task, they barely registered someone leaving the meeting.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be cleaning?” Stephen asked, the pair to visibly startling despite his quiet voice.

“We are… uh,” Scott began, looking just as guilty as Peter.  _ Busted. _

“Um. We just…” Peter attempted, unsure why he felt so much pressure under the doctor’s cynical expression. Eyes narrowed in scrutiny and mouth ever so slightly pouted.  _ Really busted. _

“Playing with Legos?” the doctor stated when the gap was completely closed and he could see the beginnings of… “A Lego Millennium Falcon. The 75192 model to be precise.”

“Holy shit,” Peter mumbled in an excitement as he shuffled across so Stephen could sit next to him if he wished. Stephen only considered for a moment before shrugging the Cloak of Levitation off of his shoulders and sitting cross legged by the teen. He was unable to hide the lopsided smile he had. Scott was just as giddy at the new company, if not more so. 

“Is the meeting nearly coming to a finish?” Scott inquired when none of the other Avengers seemed to leave the conference room.

“No, they have plenty more to talk about. They just no longer require my presence. And in all honesty, the bit I did need to hear could’ve been an email.” 

“Did the presentation from Captain Rogers go okay?” 

“Perhaps if he had not started it by letting us know you nearly choked on your salad.”

“How come when one of you guys messes up in front of me I can keep it a secret. But when something even remotely embarrassing happens to me, the whole team needs to know?”

“Maybe it’s just because you are in another league of embarrassment.”

“Scott, you can’t talk. You set a kitchen on fire trying to tinker with the food processor.”

“Children.” Stephen said curtly in a tone not too dissimilar from Tony’s  _ dad _ voice. 

“Sorry, Miste-Doctor Strange… Did you want to help us with the Lego building?” There’s a flicker of pain in the doctor’s eyes at the question. Piecing together such small blocks would be his absolute kryptonite due to his trembling fingers. 

“Of course, he doesn’t. He’s all cheekbones and serious business. Wouldn’t even show me a magic trick.”

“Actually. I would have joined had it not been for…” Stephen raised both arms to reveal the nerve damaged hands as they shook. With a sigh he placed them back into his lap, ignoring the concerned look in Peter’s eyes.

“Hey, I’ve got this great idea.” Scott suddenly exclaimed in an effort to quickly change the subject. The trio leaned in together as he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Hey, Peter. Whatcha up to, buddy?” Tony smoothly asked on the other line. Peter could instantly hear his mentor’s bullshit radar was switched on.

“H-Hey Mr Stark. So… I finished cleaning!” Peter started. Scott was rolling his hands, urging him to continue, but there were no excuses or white lies the teen’s mind could wilfully conjure in that second.

“Yep,” Tony said with a pop of the p. “Hey, I'll tell you what, the strangest thing has just happened in the meeting. And I know you were desperate to join, so why don’t you head on over.”

“Well-”

“In fact, I’ll fill you in whilst you make your way on over. We just got a red alert call. Avengers level threat kinda shindig. Turns out from out of nowhere an unidentified aircraft potentially of alien origin has popped up in the Great Basin desert. Luckily, before the Air Force considered an immediate nuke on the site, I got some satellite images and you’ll never guess what I saw.”

“W-What was that?” Peter nervously mumbled, audibly gulping.

“It kinda looks like a Millennium Falcon that I bought my kid, but enlarged to real life scale. Absurd, I know. What’s funny is the last I saw said kid, he was cleaning up his Lego whilst in close proximity to a bigger child otherwise known as  _ Pants-Man. _ And he just so happens to have the ability to use Pym Technology which has been known to shrink and enlarge not just himself, but vehicles and _ buildings. _ ” There was a pause, offering all respite. Scott was frowning at the chosen nickname, nose scrunched up and bottom lip protruding. Stephen actually looked like he was trying to suppress laughter. And Peter looked like he’d just like the desert to turn to quicksand as soon as physically possible. “Now one might be thinking, well of course Peter Parker and Scott Lang haven’t managed to, I don’t know. Travel the thirty-five hour car journey from here to the desert and in less than an hour. Impossible, _ right?! _ Unless of a course another child, just a bit taller than the others  _ created a BLOODY MAGICAL PORTAL THERE. _ ” 

“Technically we followed the rules.” Scott finally called out. “We-”

“Don’t speak, Lang. You’ll drastically lower our chances of getting off lightly,” Stephen interrupted swiftly as he offered to take the phone from Peter.

“I can hear you, you know,” Tony admonished, the trio practically feeling the way he was shaking his head. “There’s no getting off  _ lightly _ either. You’ve got about two minutes and thirty-one seconds to confirm it’s you before you get greeted by some of the finest General Atomics MQ-9 Reaper’s and Lord knows what else military personnel.”

“Alright, everyone get out. Scott shrink this down asap and I’ll portal us to safety,” Stephen planned out as they all moved towards the exit.

“Son of a bitch. Are you serious? Put Peter back on the phone,” Tony requested exasperatedly. It was a struggle to work out who was the most audacious in this plan right now and that said a lot. 

“Peter’s a little busy escaping considering your threat of military fast approaching. Anyway, we all know you don’t like him hearing  _ that _ kind of language,” Stephen countered as the Cloak of Levitation pushed the phone into his ear so he could open a portal. 

“Don’t turn this on me. I didn’t send the government after you. You guys did a pretty good job of that when you made them think aliens had suddenly landed on planet Earth,” Tony retaliated. The phone buzzed so he pulled it away from his ear to see that he had an incoming call from Vision. It was unusual for the android to even call him so it was no doubt in relation to something happening at the location of the new Avengers Compound. Redirecting the call to Steve he put the phone back to his ear just in time to hear more sass from the doctor.

“I’m merely babysitting Peter. It’s not my fault he chose to engage in Scott’s plan. If anything you should be thanking me.” The hero could be heard calling out “dude” in the background as the sound of the incoming Air Force fizzled away with the portal being closed. 

“ _ If anything _ , this is  _ your _ fault. This phone call wouldn’t even be happening right now if you hadn’t teleported the three of you into bumfuck nowhere to recreate your own Tatooine experience.”

“Er, Tony?” Steve tried to interrupt but was met with the wave of a hand.

“The Millennium Falcon was built in Corellia.”

“But frequently parked in Docking Bay 94 in Tatooine’s Mos Eisley spaceport.” The pair remained awkwardly silent for a moment, Stephen feeling the gaze of Scott and Peter burning a hole into the back of his head. Tony could sense multiple eyes on him but continued to try and ignore their existence. Had the kid brought him to stoop to this level of pop culture reference battles? Or was it just Stephen bringing out his petty side?  _ Or both _ ? 

“Tony, it’s Vision,” Steve reiterated and then Tony thought he could hear the sound of Vision’s voice through the earpiece. 

“You have three seconds to let me know if you’ve portalled the trio of you to the new Avengers Compound that’s barely finished,” he demanded.

“Yep,” Stephen confirmed coolly. “Hey Scott, blow it up again. We’ll be off the radar here and you’ll love this Vision.”

“Wait. What. No. Don’t you dar-”

“Well, now we are in safe hands, I’ll let you get on with that meeting,” Stephen cut off before hanging up the phone.

“Pass me that phone,” Tony said as he made his way over to Steve who looked somewhat dumbfounded at the request. He held the phone out to show the darkened lockscreen.

“Vision’s no longer on the line, sorry.” 

“Looks like we’ll be finishing this meeting off at the Compound,” Tony muttered. “If the Home Secretary calls, I’m out Friday.”

“Yes, boss,” she chimed as he suited up without hesitation and shot off into the sky, knowing the others could catch up in the quinjet.

“Uh oh,” was the only warning Peter managed to get out before the quartet could see the Iron Man suit in front of their cockpit windows. The eyes of the helmet even gave off a disappointed dad look even if deep down he thought it was actually cool as shit. When he landed he made his way to the boarding ramp expecting a welcome party but hearing them all plotting their next move. The older man had to admit the detail of the main corridor and its features were incredibly intricate, something one couldn’t appreciate until it was quite so blown up in your face. 

It didn’t take long for him to be faced with four very different facial expressions staring back at him from their seats. Stephen looked as smug as ever, his smile so broad Tony was sure he could see dimples. Scott’s eyes were so wide it looked like they were about to pop out, mouth desperately trying to remain neutral. Vision looked like he was doing his best to suppress a smile but just looked completely awkward in doing so. And Peter had a mixture of a grimace and smile on his face, cheeks so flushed he could’ve passed off as the android. 

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Peter was the first to speak. 

“Ah, ah,” Tony broke in immediately. “You should’ve known better,” he said as he pointed at Vision.

“In my defence, sir, my age can pass off as a child,” Vision responded with just a hint of sarcasm. 

“And you,” Tony decided to continue, knowing Vision was technically right. “In fact, I’ll deal with you later, Strange.”

“Oh God,” Scott mumbled dejected as he knew he would be next. He considered fighting back but Stephen had recommended he not talk again. Tony shook his head, unsure where he would even start.

“Did any of you even consider ramifications? Like did no one think, hmm maybe a huge ass ship is gonna pop up on someone’s radar?”

“No,” Peter admitted sheepishly. 

“Yes,” Stephen confirmed with no remorse.

“No-Yes. Yes,” Scott fumbled with his words, setting with the yes and nodding for emphasis. 

“Pete, I love you, kid. But how do you make every cleaning task end in danger?” Tony grumbled out loud, the admission almost coming off jokey considering the context.

“ _ We _ all had our deepest and sincerest faith that no matter what, you would keep your mentee and his  _ wards _ safe,” Stephen continued with a taunting smirk. 

“Oh, come on. Are you even going to deny this thing isn’t cool as shit?” Scott finally piped up, more confidently than he’d managed since they’d supersized the ship. Tony’s scrutinizing gaze landed back on Peter again who looked like he wanted to explode with excitement in anticipation of his mentor’s answer. Because  _ of course _ , he thought it was awesome.

“I mean, it could be better,” Tony answered with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, his features and tone immediately softening. “Would’ve been a lot more awesome if there was a magician around who could make this thing fly.”

It was within fifteen minutes that the quinjet was about to come in for its landing when it was met quite literally with the Millennium Falcon. The compound was blaring out music from the Star Wars theme as the huge Lego model slowly flew through the air with a glowing red mist effect that could only be Wanda working her magic. As it turned into their direction they were met with the beaming smile of Peter, Stephen, Vision, Scott, Wanda and a rather stoic looking Tony who placed a finger to his ear. 

“Unidentified spacecraft, please state your business.”

“How old are you, Tony?” Natasha quickly replied. 

“Blast that piece of junk out of the sky!” Clint shouted at the microphone dramatically earning an audible gasp from almost everyone.

“I understood that reference!” Steve happily admitted with a grin. 

“Please, please tell me there is room for more to board.” Bruce borderline begged.

“What do you say, Captain Parker? Shall we let this lot join the rebellion?” Tony quipped as he placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“The force is definitely strong with them,” Peter began. “But Barton is absolutely giving off dark side vibes. We could stick him an airlock… Just in case.”

And with that the quinjet and Millennium Falcon landed and the meeting was postponed to a much later date.

If someone were to ask Dr. Strange how often visitors knocked on his front door, he’d be able to tell you he could count the amount on the palm of a single hand. In fact there was literally only ever one person who would knock on his door. It was just his luck that as he went to sit down to drink a cup of tea he’d just made, the familiar Peter knocks echoed through the hallway and into the living room he was seated in. He was up on his feet, Cloak of Levitation in tow and heading towards the door before he knew it. When he opened the door, the teen looked like he was on the brink of hyperventilation which wasn’t necessarily unusual but certainly not ideal. 

“Deep breaths, Mr. Parker,” Stephen urged as coolly as he could, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. The kid didn’t look visibly injured in any way. In fact he was dressed pretty casually, making it incredibly likely he’d just finished school and made his way to Bleecker Street. 

“Sorry Miste-Doct-”

“Stephen,” the doctor provided, sympathy now lacing his voice. Damn the teen and his ability to soften him. With a quick sidestep, he raised an arm to invite Peter in, the Cloak of Levitation bopping behind him excitedly.

“Right. Stephen,” Peter addressed as he entered and was immediately wrapped in a hug from the Cloak before it placed itself on his shoulders. There was something immediately relaxing about the gentle pressure of it resting on him as if it were acting as a weighted blanket. Stephen led them to the living room quickly leaving with an “ah” when Peter had sat down. When he came back he had a glass of milk in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.

“Thank you Mis-Stephen,” Peter said, cheeks blossoming red again at the kind gesture.

“You’re welcome, Peter,” Stephen started as he took a sip of his own drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. I, erm. I. You see.” The teen halted himself, closing his eyes and clenched his jaw for a moment. His fingers were intertwining and fumbling before rubbing against his jeans. Sucking in a breath he continued just a moment later. “I. I made you something. A gift.”

Stephen raised a single brow curiously, shifting in his seat so he was now leaning forward. He watched as Peter fumbled through his rucksack before pulling out a small box and handing it to the doctor. The brow remained high as he took it with a quiet thank you and opened it. 

“They, erm. They have a neuromodulation that releases low-level electrical pulses. There might be a little bit of Stark tech in there too. But Mr Stark gave me permission. If my calculations were correct they should help. If you...” Peter paused to clear his throat again, eye contact remaining on the bracelets rather than Stephen’s face. “If you did want to build Legos sometime... they’d help.”

The doctor lifted one up, speechless at such a meaningful gift. He couldn’t even begin to sift through the many thoughts shooting through his mind. Peter had not just been considerate in giving the tech, he’d physically made an effort to create them for him. And it was likely a ground-breaking piece of medical technology at that. Instinctively he placed one on and pushed the button that seemed to indicate its power wondering if it was too good to be true. Not that he lacked faith in Peter’s capabilities. It was just such a miraculous and overwhelmingly kind gift that highlighted the kid’s attentiveness and heart of gold.

“I... You’ve rendered me speechless,” he managed, looking up at the teen who was finally making eye contact. The tremors in his hand and fingers did indeed significantly slow and he couldn’t help the choke that escaped his lips before continuing. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t think there are any words that could express my gratitude. These are incredible. You are -”

“I’ve brought some Lego with me. If you wanted to.. Give them a field test?” the teen interrupted softly, knowing the doctor was a bit like his mentor when it came to expressing compliments and sentimental feelings. It wasn’t that they weren’t appreciative, they just didn’t like to reveal their more vulnerable side. As he pulled out a box revealing a Star Wars Episode VIII First Order Heavy Assault Walker he stood from his seated position. Stephen followed the gesture and warily made his way over, slipping on the other bracelet and feeling an instant relief. Peter went to hand him the box when he noticed the doctor had an outstretched arm as he approached but was pleasantly surprised when he was instead on the receiving end of a hug.

Despite its awkwardness it spoke volumes for the appreciation and gratitude that the doctor was feeling. The Cloak decided to join in, much to Stephen’s dismay as he knew it would likely wish to cuddle longer than was necessary. With a gentle pat on the back he pulled away, the relic getting the hint and allowing the pair to put some distance back between them. Taking the box, the doctor marvelled at it.  _ It was brand new. _ That meant that not only had Tony assisted the kid in making the devices, he’d paid for the model and likely encouraged Peter to spend time with him. All those jokes about  _ shared custody _ brought a smile to his face. 

“Perhaps, we’ll leave Pym particles out of the equation for this one,” Peter remarked, pulling the doctor from his thoughts.

“I agree... I will not condone a course of action that will lead us to war,” Stephen replied with a smirk as he led them to a room with more floor space to begin building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the minor delay in getting this chapter out - I've been unwell!   
> We are almost at the end and I kinda wish I could come up with more haphazard cleaning incidents, not going to lie! The final chapter will be an Endgame Fix-It because let's face it. That's one of the biggest disaster's that absolutely needs to be remedied! I do have some more fun 5+1 fics in the pipeline that may or may not involve our favourite Irondad duo trying to bake and the Avengers trying to dance. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos and all round love ❤️💛


	6. The Harder the Battle, the Sweeter the Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. This is an Endgame Fix-It and there is some dissociation in this! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much once again for the love, kudos and comments ❤️💛

They'd won. The army was decimated, along with the Black Order and Thanos himself.

Okoye had landed a brutal blow to Corvus Glaive, impaling him on her spear. Cull Obsidian had been crushed by Ant-Man after being restrained by Spider-man when he’d gone to attack Iron Man with a hidden blade. After a challenging duel of the magics, Dr.Strange had mortally wounded Ebony Maw. And a powerful tag team of Scarlet Witch, Thor and Nebula had taken down the mad titan. Thanos and his army were gone.  _ They'd won. _

A majority of the super-sized team of superheroes and fighters had begun to congregate on the battlefield that had once been the Avengers compound. Their surroundings were the epitome of complete destruction, the cracked earth littered with shattered glass and piles of rubble. Lungs burnt from smoke and skin flared with the heat from the fires as the dust in the air finally started to settle. There were tears of joy, sighs of relief, smiles, and hugs in victory. Some almost passed out from the elation of it being over, legs giving way and knees buckling as the post-fight adrenalin wore off. 

For Tony, the nightmare was over. The very being that had plagued him for years was now dead. A huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he’d barely celebrated. Whilst he embraced Pepper, his eyes had darted around trying to spot Peter in the ever growing crowd. The photo of the pair of them had been the very inspiration behind working out time travel and leading to this very point in time. The kid who had well and truly softened him, becoming one of just a select few whom he’d allow himself to trust and care about. The kid who had challenged his feelings about never wanting children so much so that he’d started seeing him as a son. And the kid who never got to hear just how much he meant to the billionaire.

"Have you seen Peter?" Tony whispered into Pepper’s ear. As her grip around him released, they both turned on their heels examining the many faces ahead of them. Rhodey was amongst the group, offering Tony a nod. Steve was nursing an injury to his arm, Sam and Bucky at his side. T’Challa, Shuri and Okoye were gathered in a small circle, the army of Wakandans making their way towards them. Dr. Strange and Wong were mingling with the fellow sorcerers and beginning to open teleports to safety. Carol, Valkyrie and Thor hugging it out. Hope was dashing towards a now regular sized Scott and Clint was helping Wanda limp towards the others. The Guardians of the Galaxy were engrossed in deep conversation as they slowly made their way to the group. 

"I briefly saw him when he handed Carol the gauntlet. I didn't catch a good look... He didn't join us when we pushed forward. I should've checked on him… I…" 

"Hey. None of that," Tony interrupted, his knuckles gently gliding across her cheek as he could see the guilt begin to creep in. He offered a weak smile before they both approached the others, his faceplate now engaged so F.R.I.D.A.Y. could also assist. 

"Have any of you seen Spider-M…Peter?" he called out; a hint of fear lacing his voice. Nervous looks were exchanged, heightening Tony's growing anxiety even more. He'd only just got his kid back and now no one seemed to know where he was. And it was absolutely uncharacteristic of him to back out of a fight like Pepper had stated. Bucky was quick to draw attention, an arm held protectively across his injured side.

"When the ship started shooting towards us, he took an almost direct hit. I’d been keeping an eye on him as best as I could and tried to get him but he was thrown further away from me and then I got hit and lost sight of him. I tried to protect him. I… I'm sorry." He’d sounded just as apologetic and guilt ridden as Pepper had, if not worse. Steve pressed a finger to his ear, calling out Peter’s nickname, Queens, and requesting a response via the comms. Tony slowly approached Bucky, before extending a hand.

"No sorries needed," Tony said as Bucky took his hand cautiously and they shook, "Thank you for looking out for him." 

Bucky nodded in response, forcing a smile through the pain in his injuries. As the pair eyed each other for a moment, it became clear that Tony had forgiven him.

"I believe I've located Mr. Parker, boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him just before the group was about to disperse and search. 

"I’ll contact Happy and make sure Morgan’s okay. You bring back Peter," Pepper spoke softly, face full of empathy as the others looked on in anticipation. Tony engaged his thrusters and headed above ground. 

"Is… Is he alright? What are his vitals like?" Tony asked, watching as his UI brought up an image of the Iron Spider suit. His skin prickled with nerves and his breath hitched at the image that indicated the mechanical legs were gone and there was significant damage to the left shoulder, side and leg. 

He'd seen Peter on the battlefield. The kid had only been back ten minutes and was already saving his ass. Fresh faced and talking for the entire battlefield without taking a single breath. At the time it had been endearing and Tony had never been so happy to hear that voice after five years of mourning. Now, it was hitting him that talking was one of Peter's coping techniques when he was nervous and often, completely out of his depth. He was just a child, dragged into a fight that had killed him. Only to be brought back to life and thrown straight into a far more vicious battlefield. 

"Injuries detected. None are life threatening but most consistent with Sergeant Barnes' account of events. Left side seems to have taken an impact with fractures to the clavicle, humerus and tibia. Severe contusions detected along the lower back and left side of the hip. The mask is not in use so I am unable to identify head injuries. Breathing pattern is slow and blood pressure is low." Just as she had finished relaying the information, Tony caught sight of Peter and landed nearby not wanting to startle him. He'd wanted to close the gap between them just like their battlefield hug, however he instantly recognised something was off. 

Peter was sat on the ground, left leg stretched out completely, arms bent out in front of him. 

The teen’s hair was slick with sweat and blood matted curls clung to his head, his skin deathly pale in stark contrast to the red of his bleeding nose and forehead. Glazed, shell shocked eyes were rimmed with purple and blue mottled bruising and swelling. It was unnerving how he seemed to just stare at his shaking hands, not daring to blink as if caught in a trance. Other than the twitching of depleting adrenalin in his muscles, the only movement coming from Peter at all was the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed shallowly and rhythmically. Tony had quickly reported that he’d found the teen on comms when Steve hadn’t stopped requesting an update.

"Hey Pete, you with me bud?" he asked cautiously, only to be met with deafening silence. There was no response at all, not even a flinch or slight shift in body movement that someone was near him. The Peter who had had the confidence to huff and give teen attitude at Tony when he’d called his homemade suit a onesie, now looked like a shell of himself. Gone was the Peter who was bold enough to web his hand to the door and then tell him he couldn’t possibly help the Avengers out when he had homework to do. 

"Pete?" he implored, edging closer as he tapped the centre of his own suit so the nanotech would retract into the housing unit. When he was at Peter’s side he squatted down and placed a gentle hand on his mentees shoulder, releasing a breath he didn't realise he had been holding as he took in the sight of the battered Iron Spider suit. The armour did at least look like it had taken the brunt of all the hits and boy had there been a lot. Next to the hand he’d placed were horrifying deep claw-like indentations dangerously close to the neck and revealing the Stark suit underneath.

When the super shiny space superhero lady had landed in front of Peter and relinquished the gauntlet from him, he’d felt a heavy weight lifted, literally. In the few moments he had had the gauntlet he’d been attacked by a hoard of horror movie wannabe monsters, swung from a web attached to the legendary Mj ö lnir, rode a pegasus and even had a lift from Pepper Potts in her rescue suit. Not only had Captain Marvel landed in front of him shortly after taking out an entire spaceship, she’d received the wildest band of backup Peter had ever seen. They’d epically pressed forward into an entire army that violently charged right back at them. 

Peter had wanted to press forward with them. But his exhausted, aching body felt absolutely done and he’d had to brace himself against a rock. The movement had him wincing at a sharp pain in his left side, vaguely recalling the feeling of missiles that had barraged them relentlessly.

He'd closed his eyes for just a moment and before he knew what was happening, everything  _ changed _ . The sounds around him like the chat on the comms, the screams of pain from dying aliens that he had heard up close when he had activated instant kill, the general battlefield noises and cries began to fizzle out and muffle. His mind was suddenly racing as the mental toll of being snapped and then brought back had him frozen. Peter was just a kid. Suddenly alone in the middle of an incomprehensible battlefield. Going against his ethos, he’d even killed another being. But there had been no other way. The choice had been to kill or be killed. And there had been snarling bloody teeth in his face, savage long claws had scraped across the suit as his limbs had been yanked so hard he was sure his joints would pop and the mechanical legs would rip away at any second. 

A nearby high-pitched noise pulled Peter from his jumbled thoughts for just a moment. He blinked several times as he tried to look around and focus on his surroundings but it seemed futile. Everything seemed obscured except his legs that were outstretched in front of him and something golden glistening next to them. The young hero wasn’t even sure when he’d gone from standing to seated on the battle worn, blood soaked ground. Out of nowhere, his brain managed to zone in on the golden object and he recoiled realising it was a snapped off mechanical leg and the mental imagery of the merciless aliens from before intruded his thoughts once again.

They had wanted him dead and they wouldn't have stopped till they'd torn him apart.  _ Like Thanos had _ . Broken into such small pieces he was literally specs of dust. And he’d felt every torturous moment of it. It had started with the tingling in his hands and feet and then it was rushing all over his whole body. The feeling then turned to pain as his body had desperately tried to repair and protect itself before eventually going numb as it crumbled away into the air. He'd fallen into his mentor as his legs gave out or disintegrated, something he hadn't fully registered at the time. All he knew was he needed to apologise. Apologise for not being better like Tony had wished of him. Apologise because he knew this would weigh on his mentor's conscience even though it hadn't been his fault. And apologise because he hadn't been strong enough to fight harder.

Peter found himself gazing at his hands, his fingers shaking so much he was sure he could see flakes of suit beginning to blow away in the breeze.  _ No. This couldn't be happening again, please _ . The numbness was overtaking him, the trembling hands confusing him as he tried to process if he could even feel the vibrations as they shook.  _ Was he even himself? Were they his hands? _ They looked like they were his hands, the legs behind them looked like his yet there was no sensation to them. His body no longer belonged to him and he honestly felt emotionally devoid about it. 

A haze of nothingness had washed over Peter. The noises, the voices and the screams had now become so distant now they were barely audible. His surroundings had almost completely evaporated from around him. He felt like he was floating somewhere in the realms of his body but had zero control over it. Like he was just a passive observer to his own being, travelling down an empty tunnel. 

"Am I real?" the teen asked out loud with a confused expression, forehead creased and brows furrowed together as he continued to study the hands in front of him. That voice had sounded like him but he hadn’t felt the words form or leave his mouth.

"Very real Peter," his mentor replied, voice as gentle as possible. He gripped his mentees shoulder tighter in a comforting manner, a sad smile gracing his face. But Peter still hadn’t looked up yet. In fact, he looked so lost in some sort of internal fog that it was still unclear if he even realised someone was with him and talking to him. Although his eyes were open, it was as if he couldn’t see anything, "You with me, Pete? Tony asked, fully expecting the delay that had followed. 

There was a small alarm going off in a part of Peter’s brain. His senses were attempting to alert him that not only was someone nearby but they were also touching him. The floating, dissociative feeling was beginning to dissipate as the sounds around him started to clear up.

"Can you tell me five things you can see, buddy?" At that question, there seemed to be the faintest flicker of eye movement from the young hero. That was a voice he had recognised. The voice of someone who could offer him protection and guidance. 

"Erm. I can see hands… My hands…These are mine... And my legs… Footprints… Dirt…." and then finally, he looked up at his mentor. The dead gaze faded as his big brown eyes seemed to study Tony, then, "You…. You have grey hair." The view was Peter's view. And these were his eyes that he was seeing out of. Tony placed a hand on his heart, feigning offence briefly before continuing, 

"And how about four things you can feel?"

Peter looked back at his hands as he tilted his head, curious like a puppy. "Tingling… in my hands. Tingling, everywhere actually." He shifted his right leg realising it was uncomfortable and looked down, not wanting to get caught on that trail of thought again. "That rock was uncomfortable despite layers. I can feel layers. Layers of clothes. I… I… These gloves...." 

Tony could see the flourish of panic creeping in so ensuring his movements were slow, he tapped a section of the Iron Spider suit so it would retract into its housing unit. With the utmost care he then unclasped the web-shooters that had been underneath it and removed the glove section of the Stark Suit. He carefully took Peter’s hand and placed it against his chest, noting another subtle change in the teen’s demeanour.

"I can feel…you," Peter blurted out breathlessly, keeping his hand on Tony’s chest. 

"You’re doing so well, kiddo. Now can you tell me three things you can hear?" Tony shifted ever so slightly as his knees began to ache at the position he was in. Peter heard his mentor’s knees pop at the movement though chose not to dent any egos by pointing it out. It was still too surreal to process that it had been five years since he had been gone so chose to focus on the rhythm of the heartbeat under his hand.

"I can hear your heartbeat. It’s… kinda fast. And I can hear my heartbeat. And our breathing. And…" He peered down at himself before looking back at his mentor. "I think I’m real."

"Sure are. Now, how about you tell me two things you can smell?" 

"Burning, like fire. And dirt." Peter’s nose wrinkled as that sense in particular seemed to return in full force. Tony couldn’t help but warmly smile at the character returning to his kid before he asked the final question, "And let’s round this up with something you can taste?" 

"Blood," Peter admitted after a moment’s hesitation, the wrinkled nose now a full grimace.

Then the pair sat there remaining quiet for a moment before Peter's whole demeanour changed. "Holy cow, it’s you, Tony… It’s you…" he affirmed, voice breaking with a sniffle. He dived forward, being met halfway as he tucked his head into his mentor’s shoulder. Tony's chin rested carefully on Peter's dishevelled hair, taking steadying breaths of his own as his mentee wrapped his arms around his middle, hands gripping the fabric of his top tightly as he dissolved into sobs. 

"I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you," Tony whispered, wishing he could take away all of the vulnerability and pain Peter was undoubtedly feeling. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how overwhelming the situation must have been.

"Did we win?" Peter hiccupped, voice partially muffled by his mentor’s jumper as his forehead crushed against his mentor’s shoulder.

"We won, Underoos. We won," Tony assured, fighting back his own tears as he felt Peter’s body physically relax at the words. Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair, before resuming his protective hold and offered a gentle, soothing squeeze. 

"Is this a dream?" Peter whimpered so softly, Tony only just heard him. It just about shattered his heart that of all things his kid could be dreaming of, it was the simple notion of a comforting hug. Something so basic and mundane, and now a parental instinct Tony had grown to know so well.

"All real, Pete," Tony muttered with a quiet sniff. "I’m Tony Stark. You’re Peter Parker. We are in upstate New York, not that it looks that way right now. And we did it. They’re all gone." 

As that sentence sunk in Peter realised he was  _ remembering  _ what feelings felt like again. And it wasn't just the sheer amount of emotions threatening to overwhelm him further. Peter could really feel again. The feelings were of relief, comfort, protection and dare he consider, love.  _ He was real. _ The embrace felt familiar, like Uncle Ben’s hugs after another rough day at school. And the softness of Tony's fleece had reminded him of textures, like his socks, his bedding at home, Aunt May's cardigan when she'd embraced him.  _ May. _

"Is Aunt May… Is she okay?" Peter winced, the aches and pains in his body intensifying as he unwillingly pried himself away from his mentor. Tony immediately retrieved a pair of his glasses and placed them on Peter's face carefully requesting F.R.I.D.A.Y. call her.

As it dialled, Tony couldn't help but really study Peter now some of the colour in his cheeks had returned. The dainty freckles that speckled across his nose were showing after the kid had unintentionally cleaned some of his face on his jumper during their hug. The glasses had kinda suited him, albeit a little big. But he would grow into them or even better yet, Tony would just make him a pair of his own. Because he saw a younger version of himself in Peter. A better version of himself, with all the best qualities not only reflected but vastly improved. And ultimately, Peter was one of his legacies. 

"Oh my gosh. Tony? Is Peter still with you?! I saw you both go up in the air. And then. And then something happened and now there's people in our apartment and… Ahh, stop it! I'm not a mistress, this is my apartment!" Her panicked tone trailed off as the noise of bickering in the background ensued and Peter flinched at the loudness.

"It's me, May. It's Peter. Err… Is everything alright?" the teen asked, happy to hear from his aunt although ultimately confused at what was happening. 

"There are people in the apartment. Saying it's theirs. I mean it looks like our apartment albeit with one hell of a makeover. Oh gosh. Excuse me young lady, stop that right now." She scolded in her finest parenting voice and Peter simply raised a brow. Tony gestured for the glasses back, not wanting to stop the contact so soon but hoping for a quick resolution. 

"Hey, May, it's Tony. Listen. A lot of stuff has happened and I'd really like to get you to the Tower. It's where I'll be heading with Peter, we are just waiting for a medevac now..."

"Medevac. MEDEVAC. Is my kid, alright? I will reign down thun-"

"Mayy. Stop. Pleasee," Peter groaned loud enough for her to be able to hear and Tony couldn't help grinning at the embarrassed, teenage tone he was hearing. "Please just come to the tower?"

"I'll arrange for you to be picked up, May," Tony promised, winking at Peter with an affectionate smile that the boy returned.

"Alright. Alright. I love you, Peter! And I will see you soon, baby," she called out, the chaotic background noise now quieter as it sounded as if she was heading down a set of stairs.

"I love you too, May," Peter reciprocated, rolling his neck and attempting to flex his stiff arms.

"I'll message you details of your pickup," Tony said before cutting the call off and requesting F.R.I.D.A.Y. arrange transport immediately. Peter was looking ten times less stressed as he digested hearing May’s voice and knowing she was okay. 

"It... kinda sounds like May got dusty too… And now our apartment is someone else's?" he concluded with a look of concern.

"I'll sort everything out. Don't you worry." His mentor responded confidently before tapping on the glasses. "Hey Cap, can you send the Wizard of Oz this way? Spiderling has a busted leg amongst other things so we need a speedy getaway, please."

"I feel kinda dizzy, Dr.Stark," Peter faltered as he swallowed thickly. It seemed the more his mind was put at ease, the quicker he realised the adrenalin was well and truly wearing off and his body was now desperately fighting to shut down so it could repair.

"Well a little birdy did tell me you took a torpedo to the face so, ya know," Tony divulged with his best, why am I not surprised, face. "And here's our ride." They both watched as orange sparks appeared behind them, a light buzzing sound echoing as a portal opened. Peter caught a brief glimpse of the other Avengers before Dr. Strange walked through the sparkling sphere and swiftly closed it behind him. Offering a half smile to the sorcerer, he attempted to shift but was halted by the lightheaded nausea assaulting him.

"Not so fast Underoos. What did I just say about the busted limb?" Tony reiterated with his best disapproving voice.

"Dr.Parker. Stark," Strange greeted the pair coolly. "Some are already using portals to Wakanda for assistance, is that where you’re looking to go?."

"Could you get us to the tower, Gandalf? I'll let some of the Avengers know they can head there too so we don’t flood the Wakandan resources," Tony promptly requested, F.R.I.D.A.Y. already beginning to relay the message.

"Sure thing… Tin Man," Strange taunted with a smirk, quickly catching Peter's smile at the nickname too. 

"Look, I'd love to sit here and duke it out with you, being the King of nicknames and all, but actually the priority is my kid right now so can we get that portal and continue this another time?" Tony deflected nonchalantly. 

"I think… I think I need food," Peter said out loud as his stomach growled loudly, not noticing the two men staring at him for a moment. "I feel like I could eat an American cheeseburger. Or like… ten. Like, right now."

He looked up at the sound of D. Strange creating a portal, this one small in size, just big enough for just an arm to fit through. The smell of fast food was instantaneous and he couldn't help but lick his chapped lips and watch in disbelief. There seemed to be a standoff between the sorcerer and his mentor. Peter swiftly deduced Strange was suggesting Tony grab the paper bag visible on the other side of the portal. Sighing and in all honesty slightly curious, Tony eventually walked over to the shimmering portal and stuck his arm through, taking the bag without any issue. As the magic dispersed, Peter was sure he heard an employee try and chastise audibly.

"Did… Did you two just conspire and take part in a burger robbery?" Peter challenged, almost not believing the obvious. When his mentor simply let out a scoff, Strange once again created a new portal, this time to Stark Tower that already seemed to be in utter chaos. With the help of his mentor, Peter stood up and the pair limped towards it, burgers in hand. Once through they turned back realising the sorcerer wasn't following.

"I'll be returning to the others to assist with rescue efforts. Hopefully we bump into each other again sometime," Strange announced, noticing that they seemed to be waiting for him.

"Hopefully, eh? You're not getting sentimental on me now, are ya?" Tony jested with a chuckle that was quickly cut short.

"I was actually just talking to Peter," the doctor quipped dryly and just as speedy. Before Tony could retort, the portal was closed with nothing but a few seconds of bright flecks hitting the ground before disappearing completely.

They’d made their way up to Tony’s level in the tower, where Peter was finally able to lie down on a comfortable bed. Helen had already pre-warned the duo that despite some casualties being treated in Wakanda, several had now returned to the tower and would have priority due to the severity of their injuries. Helen had offered painkillers that were suited to Peter's enhancements and promised to keep an eye out till he was ready to be seen however was hopeful the injuries were already well on their way to being mended thanks to his enhanced healing factor. The kid had managed to devour four of the cheeseburgers before he'd started crashing from exhaustion, barely taking a break to talk. 

With Avengers arriving and May still enroute, Tony stepped away from Peter just so he could rummage through a set of drawers filled with fresh clothing. He'd popped into the bathroom to grab a small medical kit then resumed his place back at Peter's side. The teen was now barely awake and honestly looked as exhausted as Tony had felt for the entirety of the five years so many of the heroes had been lost. 

"Can I just get you outta the suit and into comfier clothes before you crash on me, bud?" he'd asked and was greeted with a gentle hum in response. 

With the guidance of F.R.I.D.A.Y. and a lethargic Peter, Tony managed to change him without causing any issues to the teen's already healing body. He had placed Peter's arm in a makeshift sling before laying him down and propping the fractured leg on a pillow.

"Thank you, Dr.Stark," Peter sleepily whispered as his head snuggled into the pillow and his body melted into the soft duvet wrapped around him. Tony took this opportunity to pop back to the bathroom to dampen several cotton wool balls then quickly returned to the bedside. He started wiping the dried blood from Peter's nose first, then moved to a small, scabbed over gash on his head. The tender touch he used had come from years of practicing with Morgan who’d been adventurous the moment she could walk. The older man had had to deal with many cuts and scrapes from her attempts to climb the trees that lined their riverside cabin or slipped on the wet decking in a rush to jump in muddy puddles. His heart swelled with love, chest heavy at the idea of Peter finally getting to meet Morgan. Something he didn't ever think would happen. 

"There you go, all cleaned up," he muttered more to himself as he finished, Peter seeming to now be asleep. The medical kit was almost all back together so Tony knew it was probably time to clean himself up. He was vaguely aware he had sustained at least a cut to his brow during the battle that likely needed a little TLC. He hesitated for just a moment about leaving his mentees side. The world of parenting had been ripe with life lessons and this was beginning to feel like another chance to learn new, precious terrain he wouldn’t have experienced yet with Morgan. Thus far, he had been able to keep his unconditional love for her safe from threats. With Peter, it had been breached in the worst possible way before he’d even been able to tell him how much he cared. With that in mind, he cleared his throat and inhaled sharply.

"I love you, kid" he admitted, his tone the very definition of a doting but terrified parent. 

"I love you too, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled sleepily, completely surprising his mentor that he had been awake enough to have heard. With a loving smile and a tear threatening to spill, Tony headed for the bathroom and cleaned himself up before contemplating a well deserved nap of his own. 

When May had arrived at almost the same time as Pepper, they’d immediately stuck with one another as they paced Stark Tower. Not only did Pepper take it upon herself to try and explain everything that had happened as best as she could, she’d also dipped into what she knew of Titan and the mental toll it had had on Tony, knowing it was a topic he would not want to open up about. May was already mentally exhausted at trying to process what she was being told as her emotions rode the rollercoaster of a lifetime. The more information she received the more her mind was blown and it soon became apparent this would take a long time to comprehend and move on from. Nevertheless she was thankful to Pepper who was already proving to be the ultimate comfort in this time of need. 

They’d eventually reached the room that F.R.I.D.A.Y. had indicated Peter and Tony were in. Not waiting for an answer when they’d gently tapped on the door, they’d both opened their mouths to speak only to quickly stop themselves. Tony was lying on top of the bedsheet, legs crossed and head buried into the pillows at a slight angle. Peter was burrowed into his side, an arm that had been in a sling now awkwardly thrown across his mentor’s chest. Both of them were sporting similar half open mouths, breathing in unison as well as matching gentle snores. 

Pepper was quick to notice that the nanotech housing unit Tony had kept nearby at all times was no longer in sight. The stress lines from dealing with daily grief and sadness throughout the five years of the snap were all but faded. And he looked like he was finally at peace, no longer feeling the strain and burden of the universe on his shoulders. She caught a glimpse of May who looked as if she was using every ounce of restraint to not rush to her nephew’s side. With the scene before them looking so natural and right, they nodded at one another and silently left the room, emotions running high. As they walked down the hall, Pepper offered May an introduction to Morgan whilst their heroes got some well deserved rest.


End file.
